(Burning) One Hell of a Something
by define-serenity
Summary: [Seblaine Week] Small-town boy Blaine Anderson grew up with romantic ideals propagated by popular movies. When he wakes up the morning of his 18th birthday with Hollywood heartthrob Sebastian Smythe's name on his wrist, his comfortable life gets turned upside down. SERIES. WIP.
1. Day Zero

**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**characters/pairings (all):** Sebastian/Blaine, Tina, Sam, implied Sebastian/Adam, implied Sebastian/Quinn, Cooper/Charlie Darling

**author's** **notes:** soulmates!au, written for day 7 of **Seblaine Week**: **soulmates.** inspired by _Win a Date with Tad Hamilton,_ but you don't need to see the movie to understand the story. title taken from _Burn_ by Ellie Goulding.

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**(BURNING) ONE HELL OF A SOMETHING;;**

**chapter one**

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The room smells like popcorn, sugar and sweaty bodies forced together in close quarters, but it's part of the small movie theatre's charm. He sits comfortably encased between his two best friends, Sam and Tina, the latter clutching his arm as tightly as he clutches her hand. The movie they're watching, _If Only She Knew_, draws to an emotional close and he's not too ashamed to admit his heart thuds loud in his chest and his eyes have started watering.

"He's coming back for her, I know he is," Tina whispers, resting her head on his shoulder.

On screen the movie's lead character, Sarah, gets out of her last class of the day and walks down the hallway, books hugged close to her chest, her gaze a million miles away, melancholy and sad; he's always admired how much emotion Quinn Fabray, the actress, manages to convey with nothing but a look, something she's done masterfully throughout the entire movie. Sarah exits the building, but halts in her tracks, staring at a fixed point off screen.

Everyone in the audience knows what's coming.

Sarah stands frozen while the next shots skips to another character's feet, the music swelling and his heart races; the camera pans up ever so slowly, along jeans-clad legs and a long lean body lounging back against a red convertible. His breath hitches when the male lead's face comes into view; Sebastian Smythe, 22-year-old Hollywood actor and new star on the rise, green eyes, flawless complexion interrupted by beautiful freckles, and probably his biggest celebrity crush ever.

"What are you doing here?" Sarah asks, uncertain of herself.

Sebastian's character, Shaun, drawls a slow sloppy smile, one that could melt anyone's heart. "You didn't think I'd let you get away, did you?"

Sarah takes a few quick steps towards Shaun and falls into his arms. "Oh Shaun, can you ever forgive me?"

"Baby, you're my soulmate," Shaun says, and the entire female audience (and yeah, him too) swoons–Tina sighs contently and unconsciously traces a finger over the name on the inside of her left wrist. Shaun pulls Sarah close. "There's nothing to forgive."

Tina squeals and he wipes at a tear as Shaun's and Sarah's lips meet and the soundtrack takes off, the camera slowly drawing back further and further until they get a bird's eye view of the scene, credits rolling onto the bottom of the screen.

He releases a slow even breath, still caught up in the magic of the movie and the theatre, and somewhere deep down a longing he recognizes as a silly crush, but couldn't quell even if he tried. He can't help it, Sebastian Smythe was a goodlooking guy in an almost pretty sort of way, one that stood out in the slew of other hot actors just because he had this seeming charm about him whenever he got interviewed–he often stayed up late at night to catch livestreams of his red carpet events, all in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Sebastian, and felt this odd ache in his chest realizing Sebastian would never know him, he'd never meet him, he was as unreachable to him now as the cookie jar used to be to the hungry five-year old who had to get his brother to steal it for him.

The vestiges of a celebrity crush weren't new to him, he grew up harboring crushes for Luke Skywalker and later Han Solo, with the odd crush on Patrick Swayze in both _Ghost_ and _Dirty Dancing_, so these feelings for Sebastian weren't exactly new–there were crushes before him and there'd be plenty more after him, no doubt, unless his Mr Right was in fact so right that he'd erase any past and future fantasies about freckled and sweaty half-naked boys right out of his mind's eye.

For now, though, or maybe until midnight tonight, there's no shame in mentally undressing Sebastian Smythe to his heart's delight.

"That was beautiful," Tina hushes, her face smushed up against his shoulder–she laces their fingers together and holds his hand. "I think this was my favorite yet. It was so romantic."

"Yeah," he sighs, sinking deeper into the deceptively comfortable tip-up seat. "I mean, the story and the writing, and the acting!"

Words fail to convey his feelings right now; ever since childhood he was quick to get sentimental over cinema visits–there's something about the dark space and shared experience that captivates him every time, an individual experience that's somehow communal as well. He loves getting swept up in a good plot with larger-than-life characters that interact in a fictional world. It's a fully immersive experience for him, despite Tina's intermittent comments.

"What'd you think, Sam?"

Sam doesn't say a word.

Tina sits up and takes one look at Sam, nearly giving him a heart attack when she shouts, "Samuel! Evans!" for the entire theatre to hear, which makes Sam flail up in his seat, mumbling, "Hmpf, w'asgoingon?" in a single breath, before he realizes the movie has come to an end. "Oh, thank God."

"You fell asleep?" he asks, much calmer than Tina, though he's sad Sam apparently failed to have a good time, and more than a little perturbed that Sam still feels the need to utter his dislike; if he didn't want to see the movie, he shouldn't have come.

"I don't know why you keep dragging me to this guy's movies." Sam draws a hand up and down his face to chase away any residual sleepiness. "They're all the same."

"No, they're not!" Tina exclaims, cutting him out of the conversation entirely when she reaches over and pinches Sam's biceps. "Sebastian's range is amazing!"

Sam scowls at Tina while rubbing over the sore spot on his arm, and looks at him, knowing full well Tina would do anything to defend her best friend's celebrity crush, not that she particularly dislikes anything Sebastian's done. "I don't understand what you see in the guy."

Tina giggles. "His abs."

He shakes his head lovingly, sitting up between his two friends before any more bodily harm can be done. "Make fun all you want," he says. "I'm not blind, I know about his reputation. But he's an out and proud gay celebrity and he doesn't apologize for anything. I can admire that and his abs all at the same time."

Sam and Tina fall silent at that, and seemingly decide that maybe they should let him have this night; they're out celebrating his eighteenth birthday, after all.

At Breadstix they sink into their usual booth, Sandy the waitress taking their usual orders with her usual smile, but like much else in town it's familiar, which leaves pleasantly warm melancholy and nostalgia simmering in its wake, especially now that he's set to leave after the summer–he looked forward to college, but unlike Sam or Tina he never felt the overwhelming need to leave Lima. His family lived here and so did his friends, and even though his older brother Cooper was among those who couldn't wait to get out, he's grateful he'll still have Tina around at college. They never planned on attending the same college, but when they both got accepted to Brown and it offered degrees in their respective dream careers, it was an opportunity they couldn't pass up.

Their drinks arrive first, and Sam raises his glass to toast, but makes sure they're the only ones who actually hear him say, "Happy birthday, buddy," because he'd rather avoid having the entire staff singing him a song–Manny, one of the cooks, fancied himself a rockstar, but was as tone deaf as a parrot.

His actual birthday was tomorrow, but due to a lack of any other interesting things to do on a Friday night in Lima, Ohio, and tomorrow's undoubtedly life-changing news, most seventeen-year-olds decided to celebrate one day earlier. In the morning, five hours from now, he'd have someone's name on his wrist, not just anyone's, but his soulmate's. It's the single most important event in any teen's life and he'd spent his undivided attention scouring the net for that Mister Right. If his soulmate had any computer skills to speak of, that was, but who didn't this day and age? Unless he was much older than him, or, God forbid, much younger.

Most people got lucky, they found a soulmate who approximated them in age and socio-economic status but there were exceptions; his dad was nine years his mom's senior, while Charlie was several years older than Cooper–who's to say how old his soulmate would be. He imagines it's hard to have to wait for your soulmate if he's older; his father spent that time getting his college degree and earning money to provide for his future family. In the end, love transcends a great many things.

He doesn't dislike the idea of waiting, he could focus on school first and not live with the hassle of juggling that with a relationship, but patience isn't one of his greatest virtues and starting tomorrow that impatience will only grow.

There were horror stories too, people whose soulmate had died, whose soulmate moved to a different state or country or continent for whatever reason, whose soulmate was in jail or in witness protection and changed their name, whose soulmate was never found because they lived on the street and had no address, no social security number, no access to a computer or a phone or any way to reach out–steps were being taken by governments all over the world to make sure people didn't slip through the cracks, free sign-up services were offered so that someone might have some idea of certain people's whereabouts, but there were still plenty of ways for a person to get lost in the system.

The stories of those people who never got a name at eighteen scared him the most as a boy. It didn't happen often, sometimes it was a genetic anomaly that could be cured, but some saw it as a sign that the person in question was never fated into existence, that he or she shouldn't exist, that they were anomalies society couldn't account for–as a kid he used to wake up screaming, pulled from nightmares where he never got a name, his family rejected him and he ended up lost and alone in a big bad world that would never accept him. Cooper or his mom would hold him close and tell him everything would be okay, but he only started believing that the day Cooper woke up with a name etched into his wrist. If his big brother possessed the right genes to earn himself a name, then surely so did he.

So he's not too worried, any anxiety results from days and weeks and months spent anticipating the big day, when his soulmate's name would finally be revealed to him and he'd be in on the secret; he'd finally understand why Tina felt the need to run her fingers over the subtle tattoo whenever she felt happy or waxed romantic, something he still caught his parents doing when they missed their significant other; he'd feel the depth of certainty Cooper felt the day Charlie arrived at the train station in her platform shoes, standing a few inches taller than Cooper but quickly toeing off her shoes so they'd be eye to eye–Cooper married Charlie eleven months into their relationship, a fumbling nineteen-year old barely capable of holding a job, and a stunning 5"10' brunette who'd encourage him to follow her to Hollywood where all their dreams could come true.

That kind of meeting left its mark on an impressionable nine-year-old, who'd stood on that same train platform, clutching his mother's hand, finally seeing what all the fuss had been about these past few weeks in trying to get Charlie over and rearranging the house accordingly. Charlie Darling, his sister-in-law's maiden name, had kissed his forehead and snapped his picture, complemented his bowtie and smiled at him the way only Cooper had previously–like a little brother. And he fell in love with Charlie too, in a way, the way that little brothers did with girls who offered them a hand. He'd walked back to the car holding one of Cooper's and one of Charlie's hands, all the while staring up at them, marvelling at the complete lack of wariness in either their eyes.

He wants something like Cooper and Charlie have, uncomplicated and natural, their lives fell in line from the day they met, their hopes for the future similar and leading them to the same city, and even though Charlie had so far been more successful in her career than Cooper, it was coming up on their ten-year anniversary, and they were still as happy as any two people could be together. Charlie softened parts of his brother others might call vain or self-involved, while Cooper brought out a sweetness Charlie usually kept buried under her business woman exterior–he's caught the two of them out on the porch swing on more than one occasion when they visited for the holidays, Charlie's legs in Cooper's lap, nibbling at his ear, Cooper whispering sweet nothings until he had Charlie shaking with laughter.

That's what he wanted, trust and intimacy pared with the love that came from being fated to someone. If Cooper The Cynic could find something like that, he's confident his own experience will be comparable. There's a reason he's called Blaine The Romantic behind his back.

"Did you really mean what you said earlier?"

He glances up from one of Tina's old Cosmos, his answer stuck around the pieces of popcorn he popped into his mouth. Sam dropped them off at Tina's because he had an early shift at the local Piggly Wiggly in the morning, but he'd sleep over because he'd much rather share his excitement with Tina than his parents; he loves his parents more than anything, but they'd researched Charlie right alongside Cooper when he got his name and barely gave him an inch of space to breathe–Tina would be all over him in the morning, but at least he'd avoid any potentially embarrassing situations.

"About Sebastian," Tina adds, joining him on the bed once she's changed into her PJs, a red tank top and polka-dotted bottoms to match.

He shrugs, swallowing before he says, "I like to think some of his reputation is exaggerated," and lies down on his stomach. He throws the magazine aside and tries not to think about it too much, he likes the idea of Sebastian as set up in his fantasies, a playboy with a soft side that shows after careful prying, a boy with his own soulmate right around the corner that would set him straight, who would make him see the value in loving one person and one person alone for the rest of his life–the tabloids can say what they want, that's the picture of Sebastian he has and they can't touch it, even if it was as big of a lie as the ones they sold.

"Cooper told me that over 50% of things you read in the tabloids is wrong, anyway."

Tina nods at that and returns her attention to the laptop perched between them at the end of the bed, playing one of their favorite Sebastian movies, _The Wild West_; the title could've used more finesse, but he never complained when Sebastian's green eyes peeked from under a genuine Stetson cowboy hat, accompanied by that cheeky grin he swears gets more perfect every time he sees it.

"He's so dreamy." Tina sighs, her chin resting in the palms of her hands, legs crossed at the ankles lifting off the bed every few seconds.

He scratches at his wrist, unsure whether or not he's imagining the slight itch right below the surface of his skin. Looking down at it there are red marks his nails left behind and no name, but it's there, waiting to reveal itself, unlocking in the specific strand of DNA that carried the soulmark sequence, and he's ready. He's so incredibly ready to find out who his soulmate is.

Tina closes a hand over his wrist. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah," he breathes, heart beating that special rhythm of healthy nerves. "I'm going to know my soulmate's name tomorrow. That's–" He rolls onto his back, tries his best not to keep his eyes locked on his wrist for the rest of the night; that won't do anyone any good. "I've been waiting a long time for this."

"What if it's Sam?"

"It won't be Sam." He laughs. "Horrifying as the stories are, I've never heard of a straight guy being fated to a gay guy. Besides, I'm way past my crush on Sam."

Tina smiles knowingly but settles on the bed next to him, staring up at the ceiling.

His crush on Sam wasn't anything special; a few years ago, in a tailspin of teenage hormones and his first foray in underage drinking he might've realized Sam had an amazing mouth and full lips he would not have minded moving against his own, feel his tongue caress a wet path over his lips while the tips of his fingers mapped out Sam's abs–he'd scarcely avoided Sam noticing his pants tenting in an angle that left little to the imagination, and rushed home to wake up with the single deepest sense of shame. Only he started thinking about it, how it would be to have a boyfriend–soulmate or not there were people who tried figuring it out before any name appeared on their wrist, and more than a few of his friends had experience with relationships, Sam included, but he'd never had the luck of meeting a nice gay boy who liked him back. He's not sure he could stand the pain of giving his heart so someone and learning he wasn't his soulmate.

Maybe that's why crushing on a straight guy was a safe bet; he won't mourn his once-crush on Sam when the blonde receives his soulmark, he'll be happy for him and support him every step of the way.

"You know what this means, right?" Tina asks. "I can finally talk to you about Mike and _you'll know_. You'll know like everyone else does. I'm so sick of listening to Rachel going on and on about Jesse St. James and how she's headed to New York to be with him."

He turns his head to look at his best friend. "Isn't that what you're doing with Mike?"

"Yeah, but Rachel isn't my best friend."

There are many reasons why he considers Tina his best friend, they share a lot of the same interests and have similar tastes in movies, books, sometimes even clothing; he and Sam share a love of video games and action movies, but every once in a while he needed to be able to talk about fashion or the theatre, or, as it turns out, _Sebastian Smythe_. They met in seventh grade, paired together by Miss Edwards, who taught chemistry at such a slow and boring pace he and Tina learned all about each other in the span of the forty-five minutes that followed their initial meeting–they'd been inseparable ever since. The Cohen-Changs were as used to him staying for dinner or sleeping over as his parents were to having Tina around the house; his mom called her the daughter she never had, which Cooper never thought was cute, but made Tina's eyes shine.

Tina got lucky with her soulmate; Mike Chang had known her name for a little over a year before Tina received her soulmark, but the two had quickly found each other on Facebook, posting pictures of their respective tattoos as proof. He'd marveled at the entire experience, witnessing two soulmates come together yet again, and even though he'd well past the countenance of a nine-year-old he couldn't help but stare wide-eyed and open-hearted–that's what he wanted: the initial wonderous meeting, the certainty of being exactly where he needs to be, the spark and wonder, and the undying belief that he'd never want or need anyone else, not like that.

Mike already attended college as a freshman at Brown, where he and Tina would be headed after the summer unless fate dealt him a different hand. They'd met up a few times, when Mike found the time and the funds to make the trip, but they'd mostly been long-distance for the better part of five months; neither seemed to mind, they found free time to call and Skype each other, slowly getting to know the other before becoming serious, and that fell in line with both their personalities. Mike came from a traditional Asian family, where the whole soulmate thing usually happened under the initial supervision of the parents on both sides–with Mike at Brown the Changs and Cohen-Changs had decided to give them room to breathe, since America generally lacked a strict adherence to any rules, and it'd benefited a paced friendship. But knowing Tina the way he does, he knows she's in love.

"It's going to be amazing, Blaine."

Up until now he's lived vicariously through Tina, and even Cooper, and he won't meet his soulmate tomorrow, probably not even the day after, but he's clung to this idea for so long that he could burst with it, with glee, with happiness, _with nerves_, because what if, what if, _what if_.

He rolls onto his side. "Let's talk about something else. _Anything_ else."

And Tina doesn't miss a beat, "What do you think Sebastian Smythe is doing right now?" she asks, and he giggles, before they tumble into a wild fantasy of an underground blacklight rave, Sebastian's body painted in pink and green and blue dayglo, writhing on the dance floor with that special grace he possessed; he'd trace his fingers down Sebastian's neck and chest, draw closer and closer until their lips brushed together and–

He buries his face in his hands and breaks out in laughter right alongside Tina until he has to catch his breath; he could never talk to Sam about stuff like this, sometimes you have to be able to joke around about other boys, and Tina's always too happy to oblige.

They finish watching the movie over a bowl of popcorn and some rum and cokes Tina secreted away earlier, whisper crazy nonsense into each other's ears and laugh so hard Tina's parents need to come ask them to keep it down; they crawl into bed with Tina's computer and watch some of their favorite _So You Think You Can Dance _performances, and he tries his best not to check his wrist every five seconds or so.

Finally, somehow, they both doze off.

He startles awake at seven in the morning with the odd sensation that he's forgotten something, like he accidentally forgot to pack a set of clean boxers or left his toothbrush in its designated place in his own bathroom. Running his tongue over his teeth he decides it's not either of those things, but the nagging sense continues, pulses through him until finally he's awake enough to realize–

He's eighteen years old today, there's a soulmark on his wrist, he's gained something incredible in the span of a few hours sleep, a name that he's been carrying with him all this time and will finally be revealed.

Next to him, Tina tosses the sheets back, snores a short, "Hmpf," and finds a more comfortable position to sleep in.

Slowly, as if the movement could offer an escape to the thin lettering, he pushes the duvet back to release his arm. He sits up and rubs at his eyes with one hand, blinking away sleep before he even dares to take a look. This is it, the moment of truth, he'll have a stranger's name on his arm that he'll research until he has some answers, but even if he can't find him yet he'll be one step closer. One step closer to his soulmate.

He swallows hard and looks down, heart beating in his ears, eyes catching on the first and last name now permanently tattood on his wrist. A name… _he knows_.

This can't be.

He scratches at his skin, blinks another few times, shakes his head and pinches his thigh until he's sure he's awake.

And no.

Oh. No.

_Holy shit_.

Right beneath his fingertips, in a cursive no computer model has ever managed to approximate, there's a tattoo one inch by half an inch, spelling out a name scribbled so often in the margins of his notebooks he'd recognize it by shape alone.

_Sebastian Smythe_.

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**if you can, please let me know what you think?**


	2. Day One

**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**author's** **notes:** sorry to everyone who thought Blaine and Sebastian would be meeting soon (i'm really not, i enjoy dragging this out). thanks for the wonderful love and excitement, i'm really excited for this story! for any questions feel free to hit me up on tumblr or here in the comments!

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**(BURNING) ONE HELL OF A SOMETHING;;**

**chapter two**

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**(day one)**

_Sebastian Smythe_.

This can't be happening.

He pinches his thigh again until it bruises but he fails to snap out of his stupor. Somehow his dream sank its claws so deep into him conventional methods for waking up weren't working – he stumbles out of bed as quietly as he can, hoping that proper head-to-toe blood flow might help get his head in check, but the name on his wrist doesn't change, doesn't fade, doesn't disappear.

Glancing back at Tina his heart starts in a panic; his best friend's still sound asleep but he dreads the prospect of telling her what happened. She'll laugh at him, Sam will laugh at him, everyone will point their finger and accuse him of manipulating the system – _he got his celebrity crush's name to appear as his soulmark_. He swallows hard, the room spinning, and he grabs his phone before running to the bathroom. Once inside he locks the door, and sits himself down on the closed toilet to research a thing or two on his phone.

He opens Google and types in 'hysterical soulmark' with shaking hands, in case that's actually a thing and something the doctor might help him get rid of with a few pills. Unfortunately all the links lead to conspiracy websites created by the kind of crackpots he and Sam like to make fun of, while every fresh glance at the cursive penmanship inked into his skin makes him doubt his own skepticism. Because there's no way Sebastian – he shakes his head, no, it can't be, Sebastian can't be his soulmate. Maybe all his fantasies had somehow convinced his brain that he and Sebastian should be fated together and his body responded in kind. Maybe this could be fixed.

He scrolls through a few more links which fail to provide any answers – as far as the World Wide Web is concerned no one has ever presented with this type of symptom. For all its flaws, the system's pretty straightforward: the name you're granted is the name you're stuck with for the rest of your life. He sinks his face down into the palms of his hands, forcing deep even breaths into his lungs – he doesn't want to be known as the guy who was so hot for a celebrity he actually fooled his body into believing said celebrity was his soulmate; he'll be a laughingstock, the class clown, the butt of every joke.

But he won't be the victim again.

Standing up he walks over to the sink and holds his wrist under the tap, running cold water first, then incrementally dialing up the heat: could this be some kind of practical joke Sam and Tina were playing on him? Had they snuck some kind of psychotropic drug into his food last night? There was a market for drugs that made the soulmark disappear – scientists first developed it during the Cold War under the guise of offering some kind of comfort for those people who never found their soulmates; the same conspiracy crackpots he and Sam joked about claimed the drugs protected the identities and soulmates of government agents and spies.

He soaps up his wrist and scrubs at his skin with a washcloth. There aren't any drugs that can randomly make a soulmark appear though, none that he's heard of anyway. Besides, his friends wouldn't be this cruel, they understood the importance of this, it was a tradition as old as the world, tracing back to Ancient Mesopotamia, so ingrained into every single culture it was a way of life. No, Sam and Tina wouldn't do this.

So could it be? He dries off his wrist and hand and holds it up to eye level, Sebastian's name vibrating on his skin as if it has a heartbeat of its own. Could Sebastian be his soulmate? It seems impossible, it seems like a dream, a fantasy written into the pathways of his cerebellum by his own hand, but he's decidedly awake right now and his skin still reads the same name.

"Blaineydays," Tina sings right outside the door, followed by a few consecutive knocks that make his heart leap up in his chest. "What are you doing in there?"

"I'll be right out!" he calls, but doesn't move an inch. What will he tell everyone? Soulmate or not, Sebastian's name on his wrist will surprise everyone, and all the people in his life know about his crush; there are framed movie posters up on his bedroom walls, he has scrapbooks with articles, he has about a dozen image folders dedicated to Sebastian on his computer. He's read _fan fiction_ for Christ's sake. No matter how he looked at it, this will be an unmitigated disaster.

"What does it say?" Tina squeals, her feet thumping on the ground as she jumps up and down. "Blaine, you're killing me, get out of there."

He flushes the toilet even though he didn't use it, scouring the bathroom for anything that might keep the inevitable at bay for a few moments longer. Luckily he had the prudence to leave his hoodie here, and he pulls it on over this long-sleeved pajamas, all in the hopes of keeping his wrist covered no matter what wild gestures he's about to make.

He opens the door and stares Tina right in the eye, shoulders hunched and about four feet tall, his wrist weighing him down with the force of a few cinder blocks. Tina waits in trepidation as if he's about to divulge the answer to the universe and it breaks his heart that he chooses to lie to her. "It's– no one we know."

To his surprise, Tina only smiles brighter. "I'll fire up my laptop," she says, and sprints towards the end of the bed, where she deposited her laptop after their Sebastian marathon last night.

"No, Tay–"

When Tina's wide eyes question his entire existence up until then he almost blurts it out, _Sebastian Smythe is my soulmate! We're going to get married and have babies one day!_ but then the truth of it hits him all over again: how the hell will he convince anyone, his parents, his friends, _the world_, that teenage heartthrob Sebastian Smythe has been fated to him? He'll have to face cameras and reporters and Sebastian, and more than likely end up in magazines and tabloids. There's no telling how his life might change. And that all hinges on the hope that he's not in fact dreaming, or not currently slipped into a coma; maybe he'd ruptured a blood vessel in his brain and he floated up to heaven, there's a slew of other explanations before he has to accept that Sebastian's name has permanently etched itself into his skin.

"I'm starving," he says, even though the mere thought of food stirs nausea at the pit of his stomach.

Tina leaps up, and claps her hands together, beaming, "I'm going to make you an extra special birthday breakfast, birthday boy."

Soon they make their way downstairs to the kitchen and Tina pulls out all she needs to make blueberry pancakes, his favorite – when she promised him she'd treat him to an extensive and festive breakfast two weeks ago this isn't how he imagined he'd feel. His lies don't digest too well and his worries only make things worse; those two words on his wrist twisted him into a tiny mess, his thoughts racing faster than he can track, his heartbeat not slowing down. Thankfully Tina doesn't notice his distraction, but rattles on and on about Mike and all the double dates in their future, about attending Brown together and doing well, and being lucky enough to share that life with a soulmate. He loves Tina's unbridled enthusiasm, her unapologetic sentiment in every aspect of life and her relentless loyalty as a friend, which somewhat soothes his troubles – maybe she'll laugh, initially, but once his emotional distress becomes apparent she'll be the friend he needs.

He squeezes some oranges and makes coffee for him, tea for Tina, and it's a testament to the Cohen-Chang's willpower that they remain upstairs while they decorate the breakfast table, the scent of fresh pancakes and coffee mixing into an irresistible combination. He eats three pancakes, even manages a few smiles when texts start pouring in on his phone, two separate ones from Cooper and Charlie, begging him to change his mind and visit them this summer, Mercedes from LA as well, Marley and Sugar, even Jake and Ryder took time out of their feud to leave him a message on Facebook.

Tina presents him with a Brooks Brothers gift card for which Sugar, Artie and Sam pitched in too, and a pile of birthday cards he can decorate his room with later. The Cohen-Changs join them in the kitchen once they finish up, and let them out of doing the dishes after Tina not so subtly shoots her parents a few pointed looks.

"Come on, show me," Tina says the second they set foot in her bedroom and closes the door behind her, strategically blocking an escape to both the bathroom or back the way they came.

He tugs at his left sleeve, the hoodie falling crooked off his shoulder, Sebastian's name burning through two layers of fabric. "I don't really feel like researching yet." He grimaces. "Can't we– watch a movie or something?"

"Why are you embarrassed?" Tina asks. "I swear to God I won't tell anyone."

"It's not that."

Tina's eyes skip from his left hand back up to his eyes. "Is it Sam?"

Lord knows why Tina seems to be stuck on this idea of Sam's name appearing on his wrist – he's not in love with Sam, and he has no desire for the universe to divulge the blonde as his soulmate, not only because that would radically complicate a friendship he holds dear, not to mention Sam's sense of self. No, Sam's straight, and one day a lucky girl will be happy to find his name on her wrist.

"No, it's not Sam."

Tina makes a grab for his arm, but he takes a step back, barely maintaining his balance. "Tina, don't–"

But Tina forces him back against the bed, "Show me!" she demands.

He's necessitated to stretch his arm over his head, but it only makes Tina more tenacious as she jumps up and down. The tactic seems to work for a bit, until Tina gets tired of jumping, takes a deep breath while scowling at him, and just pushes him back onto the bed.

"Tina!" he screams as she clambers on top of him and clutches his arm close to his chest, but his wonderfully petite best friend proves much stronger than she looks – she tugs at his arm until he has no more fight left in him. Straddling him around the hips, Tina slowly pulls his arm up, peeling back his sleeve.

Her eyes go wide. "Blaine…"

Tina blinks in much the same manner he had an hour and a half ago, stroking her thumb over Sebastian's name to make sure it's not a hoax, and the silence is excruciating, Tina as lost as he felt, scrounging for answers or an explanation that might help calm his raging panic.

"How did you do this?"

"I didn't." He struggles free from under Tina and sits at the far edge of the bed. His skin itches right below Sebastian's name and he scratches at it again, as if it might yet disappear if he wished hard enough. "I couldn't have, right?"

"I don't know." Tina shrugs, hands folded neatly in her lap. "I don't think so? But– _Blaine_."

Tina pins his tattoo down with two tersely set brown eyes.

"I–" He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I know."

It's a disaster, that's what, Sebastian doesn't even know he exists, how would he let him know he's out here waiting for him? Does he show up at one of his red carpet events and hope for their eyes to cross so they could have that one magical moment that'll bind them together? He's fantasized about it, sure, the same way thousands of others have dreamed about waking up with a desired soulmark – he can't count the amount of One Direction fans who'd stood up and claimed to be Zayn Malik's or Harry Styles' soulmate, but so far they'd all turned eighteen without the tattoo of their dreams showing up on their skin. Much to their dismay.

But here he is, and if he's completely honest he never truly wanted Sebastian's name to appear anywhere on his body. He had a crush, a silly crush like there'd been before and like there'd be after.

"Well, at least you know," Tina says.

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it." Tina faces him. "Yesterday you were still worried you might have to wait to find him. But Sebastian's the one who waited all these years."

The revelation hits him like a ton of bricks.

_Of course_. There's no need to panic, Sebastian received his mark four years ago, he's known his name all that time so it's all simply a matter of getting the both of them in the same room. Then again, how would he insert himself into Sebastian's life? How do people usually go about meeting celebrities?

"Blaine?" Tina asks, a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

This will be tricky no matter what – he doesn't want to draw attention to himself by going straight to the press, that would put him in the spotlight and Sebastian might think he's out for fame and money, which couldn't be further from the truth: he wants Sebastian to see him free of any media sensation, they're two boys fated together by a higher force and that shouldn't be a spectacle, it should be special, a meeting of two souls who'd been wandering until that time, that moment where their eyes meet and it's like home was a place he'd carried with him all along – except home wasn't a place at all, but a name printed deep into his skin.

He instructs Tina to turn on her laptop after all, and they spend a good half hour researching any and all articles relating to Sebastian's soulmark. In truth he already knew the answer, celebrities are protected by agents and managers, an army of lawyers and contracts stipulating that any tabloid that snapped a picture of their soulmate's name and published it could be sued from here to high heaven, which, historically, had not ended well for the magazines in question.

Congress voted on the Soulmark Privacy Act in 1944 after the infamous Lauren Bacall and Humphrey Bogart affair – as the story goes Bogart and Bacall met on the set of their first movie _To Have and Have Not_ and sparks flew between the two co-stars. No one thought much of it beyond the usual early Hollywood gossip; Bogart didn't have a reputation of sleeping with his leading ladies and entered his third marriage a few years previous, and Bacall was barely nineteen years old, a bright and promising career ahead of her. When one lucky photographer took a picture of the name 'Humphrey DeForest Bogart' on Bacall's wrist however, opinions divided into two camps – there were those who pitied Bogart for having to wait that long for his soulmate to walk into his life and never blamed him for trying to find happiness with others, and there were those who condemned Bogart for giving up so easily.

The whole affair tore through Hollywood like wildfire, every studio executive, manager and star got their say until politicians caught on as well – new technologies and the rising star culture were creating the need for new privacy laws, and like much else, what the stars wanted, the stars usually received. The Act passed Congress faster than any other before, and when a similar scandal arose around Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton's on-set affair, two magazines ended up going bankrupt.

Unsurprisingly, celebrity culture had the highest divorce rates in the world.

Not all celebrities bought into the privacy thing – some came out and said it, which had resulted in the most lasting relationships in Hollywood, Bacall and Bogart's included, while others, like Angelina Jolie, gave the system the middle finger by having her soulmark tattooed over before her career even took off; the world cried outrage, but that wasn't anything Jolie wasn't used to, until last year, when Brad revealed his soulmark to be Angelina's name.

Strangely, he never thought about Sebastian's soulmark until Tina mentioned it. Most people his generation grew up knowing celebrities rarely came forward or even talked about it, so there was no point in even speculating. Sebastian may well have gone on for years, flitting from on relationship to the other, but he's quite determined to put an end to that. Sebastian had been linked to several celebrities since his rise to stardom – back when he was on Broadway as a teenager he had a relationship with Nick Duval, one of his co-stars who ended up marrying his soulmate Jeff Sterling; he'd had a torrid affair with Biff McIntosh, a senator's son who'd broke things off the moment the press caught wind; and last year he'd been spotted going around with Elliott 'Starchild' Gilbert, the famous rock star who'd burned through his own fair share of relationships so far.

He never heeded Sebastian's reputation, what did it matter to him what some Hollywood actor did with his private life, and it wasn't his place to judge him for that – this was celebrity culture through and through and he hadn't ever known that to be any different either. Even some of his friends had tried on other relationships; Sam dated Mercedes before she left for Los Angeles (her wrist had revealed a name unknown to any of them); Tina dated Artie for a few months but that didn't work out; and Marley had the most tragic story of them all – the eve of her eighteenth birthday she lay in Jake's arms, only to wake up with the name 'Ryder Lynn' imprinted on her skin. Jake and Ryder, friends up until that point, hadn't spoken to each other for several weeks now, and Marley stood caught in the middle, torn between what her heart felt and her body told her to feel. No one has so far dared to predict how that story would end.

So Sebastian's past didn't matter to him, he decides there and then, only his future, one he planned to be a part of before long.

But how to proceed?

"I should go talk to my parents," he says, and gets up, grabbing his overnight bag for a fresh outfit. They'll probably wonder why he hasn't called with the exciting news already, but this is something he should do face to face – he wants to see their expressions when he tells them that the boy plastered on his bedroom walls and their future son-in-law are one and the same person. Years ago, when Charlie emailed Cooper a picture of herself, his mom and dad couldn't believe Cooper's luck – at that time Charlie worked as a model and practiced photography as a hobby, two pursuits she now got paid for. His mom extolled Charlie's beauty every chance she got to anyone she came across – he wonders if she'd react the same way to Sebastian.

Tina reaches for her phone on the nightstand. "I'll call Sam."

"No, don't you dare." He snatches the phone from Tina's dainty hand before she can press a single key. "He already makes fun of us for liking Sebastian so much."

"But–"

"Tina Cohen-Chang." He grabs around both of Tina's wrists, going down to his knees. He doesn't want this to go any further than it needs to; he needs time to figure out how he's going to handle this whole situation and all his friends knowing won't hasten that decision. He needs a game plan, and his parents are masters at that. "Promise me you won't tell anyone until I've talked to my parents."

Tina averts her eyes, and he can practically feels her urge to tell the entire world pulsing through her body.

"Promise me," he insists.

Tina's mouth pulls down at the corners, signaling she's none too pleased with this, but eventually amends with a quiet, "Okay", replacing her phone on the nightstand.

Telling his parents about Sebastian feels like coming out all over again, that inevitable dread creeping into every pore as he sits his mom and dad down in the living room, claiming the small settee for himself – he rubs his hands together, his wrist covered up by the long sleeves of his shirt. The tension in the room rises as he searches for the right words, his parents holding hands while he works up the courage to share his news; he's more excited than scared at the prospect of meeting Sebastian, they're soulmates so there's nothing for him to worry about, yet he can't shake the feeling of a noose tightening slowly around his neck, ready to ensnare him any moment.

Coming out was an added rite of passage every LGBT youngster had to go through on top of receiving his or her soulmark. With a mark appearing at eighteen there was a distinct deadline for those who were already sure of who they were, while for many others it involved a great deal of dread; a lot of people simply weren't sure until their wrists showed them the truth, and even then it didn't necessarily revealed their identities. He can't imagine what it must be like to wait for the answer to a question that's enough to give anyone a nervous breakdown.

He knew at fourteen, when he fell for Joey Walker, a boy he met playing tennis with a cute button of a nose and a lisp that started butterflies in his chest. They competed for the number one ranking in their age class throughout the year, alternating between the number one and two spot depending on how well they did in competitions, but a clear winner never arose. The first time his lips touched Joey's, right after the semi-finals against a rival club, and his heartbeat quickened, blood searing through his veins like hot lava, he knew he'd be destined to kiss boy lips for the rest of his life.

Joey and his family moved away right before his freshman year at McKinley, and they soon lost touch, but he'd discovered a part of himself so important the tiny burn of heartache didn't matter much – in the grander scheme of things he stood one step closer to his soulmate, and whether or not that turned out to be Joey he would be out there, proud and head held high, because this is who he was, who he was meant to be.

His parents took it as well as he expected, his mom smiled sadly but pulled him into a tight hug, and he never got anything other than her full support, the same way she supported him in every endeavor he undertook. His father, so similar to him when it came to expressing his deepest feelings, patted his shoulder and had tears in his eyes, but long after his confession took place he still had the exact same parents he'd always had, loving and kind, always there for him when he needed them.

Celebrities, ironically, were exempt many of these social pressures – the protection of their soulmate's name often went hand in hand with secrecy about their sexuality. Not that he believed anyone should be forced out of the closet, but the rich and famous lived in a world above the one of mere mortals, and the industry didn't encourage any teary-eyed coming out stories.

That's one of the reasons he admired Sebastian, he might hide his soulmark like many others but he never made his secret of his sexuality, coming out as gay the moment he peeked the world's interest when he played a young entrepreneur in _The Road to Success_. The world needed more celebrities like Sebastian, like Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka, Ellen and Portia, to show young people that despite the social pressure there's a future for them, that things get better in spite of what the world forces them to believe.

Once he's done talking his mom pats the spot on the couch between her and his dad, and he complies without question, yearning for some sound adult advice, anything really, so the ground beneath his feet might start feeling less like quicksand again. His dad throws an arm around his shoulders and his mom holds of one of his hands.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," she says, kissing his temple. "We'll figure this out."

It's not the advice he'd hoped for, but it helps free up some space in his lungs – his parents will have his back no matter what, and as soon as he calls Cooper he's sure his worries will seem futile; the soulbond is a powerful thing, something Sebastian will understand too.

His dad gets up. "I'll start making some calls," he says, but he's no sooner spoken the words or the phone rings.

He drops his head to his mom's shoulder, who cards her fingers through his hair softly, like she did often when he stayed home sick or felt sad for whatever reason – right now it offers the reassurance that he's not in this alone.

"Blaine, it's for you," his dad calls.

He stands up wondering who'd call him on the landline rather than his cellphone, but stands firmly nailed to the ground the moment the voice on the other end of the line speaks: "Blaine Anderson? Kim Steel, National Enquirer, how do you feel about being fated to hottie Sebastian Smythe himself?"

His heart almost gives out from shock. How the hell did the media get a hold of this so soon?

"Who–" he starts, until something in the corner of his eye catches his attention, a series of flashes following each other rapidly, coming from the front yard.

"Just a minute," he tells _Kim Steel, National Enquirer_, and follows his parents towards the living room windows.

His dad pulls back one of the curtains, revealing a small army of journalists out on the lawn, some crews still setting up their cameras, others already excitedly reporting whatever information they'd been able to find.

"_Tina_," he whispers, heart sinking to his stomach, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He should've really pushed Tina harder to say 'I promise' rather than settle for 'okay.'

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#

**if you can, please let me know what you think?**


	3. Day Five

**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**author's** **notes:** so sorry for the wait guys! i'm writing this story as i go, which i'm usually not in the habit of doing, so it's going to take more time! thank you all so much for all your lovely reviews though!

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**(BURNING) ONE HELL OF A SOMETHING;;**

**chapter three**

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**(day 5)**

Passengers gather at the gate as a voice over the intercom calls out the 7am flight to Los Angeles.

The airport buzzes loud and crowded despite the early hour, though he hasn't had sufficient experience with flying to fully opine anything about the comings and goings of airport travellers. He's never flown before, his dad preferred the three-hour scenic drive to go see his grandparents to the hassle of airport security, and he finally understood why; he got here two hours ago and all he'd done was wait, queue and wait some more, and to make matters worse, the coffee here tasted closer to water. Thankfully, boarding had started.

He lingers behind, not only to say goodbye to Sam and Tina, but to take a few deep breaths before stepping on the plane. His friends had insisted on driving him to the airport; his parents couldn't get out of work on such short notice, so they'd said goodbye to him last night before bed, after he promised his mom he'd Skype them the moment he arrived at Cooper and Charlie's.

Things had developed rapidly.

Within a day of the press showing up on his lawn he received a call from Sebastian's publicist, a certain Hunter Clarington, who demanded he sent a picture of his soulmark for visual confirmation. After the tone Hunter addressed him with, most easily described as disinterested, he'd been more than a little hesitant to give the man what he asked for; he wasn't livestock being vetted for auction, he'd hoped this could've been handled discreetly and now so many people were involved already. His mom hushed his apprehension and convinced him to give Hunter what he wanted, but it didn't sit right with him. He hadn't done anything wrong, Hunter had no reason to treat him like a common criminal out to make a quick buck.

It had only been five days since Sebastian's name had appeared on his wrist and he already felt mangled into something unrecognizable – he'd been aware meeting Sebastian would entail a process whether the press caught on or not, but he was being made to jump through hoops like a circus monkey. When Hunter showed up on his doorstep the next day he knew it would be a good long while before his life would feel normal again.

Hunter struck him as a consummate professional, not immediately someone he'd link to Sebastian, but the man knew how to do his job – he'd stood a good few inches taller than him, brown eyes, great smile, expensive shirt and dress pants combination. In his defense, Hunter lamented the hundreds of false confessions he got from Sebastian's fans every week, and he pitied the part of the taller's job that involved travelling around the country (or the world) whenever a picture didn't provide conclusive evidence of a hoax.

His soulmark, however, that was the real deal.

"Congratulations, Mr Anderson," Hunter declared upon closer inspection of his tattoo, his wrist cupped between both of Hunter's hands. "Seems like you're the genuine article." Hunter grinned, almost haughty and smug, while his eyes harbored a secret he feared to decipher. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting for you."

He'd frowned at that, because surely Sebastian had been the one waiting all this time, not his publicist, and he couldn't quite figure out why Hunter felt relief.

About an hour after Hunter's departure he got a call from Sebastian's manager, a beautiful Latina by the name of Santana Lopez. He'd caught her on television many times, standing right behind Sebastian at his red carpet events. She could've easily been one of the stars herself, with her long black hair that reached halfway her back, a figure that could fill out those tight tube dresses as if she was the reason they'd been invented in the first place, and a smile to die for.

The offer she made him took him by surprise; Sebastian would pay to fly him to Los Angeles as soon as possible, and offer a place to stay if needed – he'd stood dumbfounded and stuttering, unable to believe anything his ears heard, until his mother took hold of the phone and informed Santana that Blaine could stay with his older brother and his wife.

Somehow he'd ended up here, at Columbus National Airport, about to say goodbye to his two best friends and board a plane that would take him to his soulmate – it seemed surreal, the past few days had passed in a blur of getting his suitcases in order, talking to Sam and his other friends about what happened, and mentally preparing for the trip.

"Wish me luck," he says, high-strung tension knotted between his shoulders that settled there sometime during the night, one filled with restless tossing and turning and an old nightmare resurfacing; waking up the morning of his eighteenth birthday with a wrist devoid of any name, his parents threw him out of the house and Cooper wouldn't take him in, and no matter which friend he turned to, they all shunned him. He'd woken up sweaty and still exhausted, which a hot shower managed to remedy, but weariness crept back into his bones.

His friends had been the most welcome distraction of all this morning, Tina made a mixtape for the hour-long drive, filled with all their favorite tracks and some golden oldies (Queen, mostly), and they'd sung along to each track at the top of their lungs.

Sam slaps a hand down on his shoulder. "Be careful, okay, dude?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, because something tells him Sam isn't talking about a safe flight and keeping his wallet close once he lands in LA.

Sam tracks a step towards him, close enough so his voice can drop to a whisper, "Guard your carnal treasure."

"What?" He rears back and searches Sam's eyes, appalled though not entirely surprised to hear the advice from his best friend. "Why would you say that?"

"I'm just saying," Sam says, "This is Sebastian Smythe. Don't give it up first chance you get."

"It won't be like that."

The thought alone adds to his worries. It's not a secret between the three of them that he and Tina are still virgins – Tina and Mike were waiting for the right time in their relationship to make such an important decision, and no one had ever peeked his interest in that way. He may have had a fantasy or two about Sam when he woke up in the morning and slipped his hand underneath the covers, but there had never been any serious candidates for him to even consider having sex with. Waiting for his soulmate seemed as romantic a notion as any – once he found his soulmate, he'd never want anyone else, so the thought of sharing such an intimate act with one person and one person alone made the wait more than worth it.

"Alright." Sam pulls him into a hug. "Just–"

"I'll protect my carnal treasure," he concedes, if only to get Sam off this topic, though the thoughts interlink with all the other ones swimming through his head. So what if Sebastian had a reputation, he doesn't expect Sebastian to be a virgin, that wasn't a prerequisite in any relationship as far as he could tell, so why should it be in theirs? Sebastian's experience didn't mean he'd expect them to sleep together the moment the opportunity presented itself. Did he need to worry about this? Should he have packed condoms and lube, have a medical bill of health proclaiming he's disease free?

Tina throws her arms around him, a momentary distraction from a train of thought that will drive him crazy before long. "Remember everything. How he smells, but not just vaguely. I want good solid similes."

He smiles. "I will bring you similes."

Any anger he'd felt towards Tina a few days ago has dissipated – at first he'd been furious, Tina was the only one who knew the truth besides his parents, so there was no one else who could've alerted the press. She must've guessed how he felt because that same night she'd mauled her way through the army of reporters to get to his front door, verbally abusing more than one of them, and found him in his bedroom, hands in his hair.

"Tina, what did you do?" he asked, close to tears and even closer to a panic attack.

Tina rushed over to the bed and sat down beside him. "I didn't do this, I swear. Sugar guessed."

"She _guessed_? Sugar Motta guessed that Sebastian's name appeared on my wrist?"

"She came over to see you, but you'd already left," Tina said, running a soothing hand down his back that barely kept him together. "And I kept my promise. I didn't say a word about Sebastian. She kept asking me all these question, _is it someone we know_, _is it a stranger_, and I guess my face sort of–"

He jumped up. "–answered instead of your mouth?"

"The words 'Sebastian Smythe' didn't leave my lips." Tina shook her head, tears in her eyes and her hands fisting the sheets. "I didn't even nod or shake my head."

He swallowed hard, his knees weak, haunted by the thought that Sugar Motta might actually be psychic – known equally for her unbridled enthusiasm as well as her lack of any form of filter, he didn't put it past Sugar to have contact numbers for tabloids programmed into her phone. Sugar being Sugar, he understood why she'd see contacting the press as the next logical step for him, it might've even been his own decision if he'd had time to think about it, but now the rug's been pulled from underneath his feet. His world has turned upside down, and he doesn't know how to tilt it right side up again.

"Bling, I would never betray you like this." Tina looked small on his medium-sized bed. "Why would I call the press? Please, Blaine, you have to believe me."

"I do. It's just–" He sighed, and plunked back down onto the bed, limbs heavy, heart in overdrive. "This is not how I imagined it would be."

Tina rested her head on his shoulder. "Wait until you meet him. Everything will fall into place."

_Everything will fall into place._

It's the thought that kept him going, that got him through the past four nights, through all the phone calls from his friends and neighbors and distant relatives. Surprisingly, it was Cooper who'd been his strongest anchor – he'd just said, "Don't worry, kiddo, if I figured it out than you sure as hell can." And maybe he shouldn't think of himself as the more grounded Anderson brother, but that reassurance had been a lifeline as much as Tina's support – if Cooper The Cynic figured out the whole soulmate thing, then so could Blaine The Romantic.

The sudden realness of it all shocked him more than anything else. His impatience notwithstanding, he'd been prepared to wait a while, slowly piece together his soulmate like a jigsaw puzzle – first the outer edges, maybe find a photo or a Facebook profile, track down his name on someone's else wrist for proof in one of the thousands of databases out there. Only then would he start on the inner area, group together colors and shapes, fill the contours piece by piece by talking from a distance if necessary, exchange emails and texts and snapchats until it all came together in a complete picture. That's how most people did it; his parents, Cooper and Charlie, Mike and Tina. Even Mr Schue, who'd had Ms Pillsbury's name tattooed on his wrist for years gave her the time and space she needed to overcome her anxiety over even showing him her soulmark.

It's almost like he's on an episode of _Blind Date_, waiting for that proverbial wall to pull back to find someone he already knew on the other side – then again, he doesn't know Sebastian all, does he? He knows the fantasy, the public image Sebastian set up in agreement with his agency and Hunter. Which would almost make it a blind date if not for the fact that he has preconceived ideas about Sebastian, about his personality, the sensitive bad boy, the player turned domestic once he found his soulmate. He'd always preferred the fantasy, Sebastian unreachable and the chance of ever meeting him next to nothing. Now he'll have to accept that some of that fantasy will get tainted, he might need to revise his opinion on Sebastian the moment they meet.

Sebastian still is an unsolved puzzle for him, all he'd been doing these past few years is color in an image without truly being able to see the lines – the Sebastian in his mind could be an entirely different one than the one he's meant to meet tomorrow. And he can't for the life of him decide if that's better. He'd hoped for a grace period, at the very least, some time to prepare, _to breathe_, before coming face to face with his soulmate, who also happens to be his celebrity crush.

He draws in another deep breath as the plane hits the tarmac in Los Angeles, his lungs constricting around a certain sense of doom. All things considered, maybe it's best he pulls off the band-aid in one fail swoop – if he keeps up his worrying, he'll keel over from oxygen deprivation before laying eyes on Sebastian.

At least Cooper and Charlie would be happy to see him – they'd been begging him to visit for a few years now, but other obligations usually kept him home, like the vacation job at Six Flags, camping trips with Sam… In truth they were all excuses not to spend that much time with his big brother. Much as he loved and looked up to Cooper, the age difference had always encouraged sibling rivalry; Cooper criticized him in every aspect of their relationship, he was the annoying kid brother he had to babysit or take to the movies because their parents were often too busy. It never helped that they had similar interests, song and dance and musical theatre, and they both had talent to spare. His mom used to say his brother was simply jealous and he had a funny way of showing that, but that never made things easier for him; she added "be the bigger man", but Cooper had made him feel like a boy his entire life, and that won't change over time – he'll always be the kid brother.

His brother's move to LA and the subsequent distance it caused put less strain on their relationship; not living under the same roof meant that whenever they talked they brought each other up to date on their lives rather than find ways to taunt the other, and a lot of the negativity seeped from their conversations. Charlie, too, made it possible for him to talk to Cooper about real things, like relationships, college, friends... Still, two weeks in close quarters with Cooper was asking for trouble, even if meant as a vacation.

Now he had little choice in the matter, and he didn't like the thought of sitting alone in some hotel room with more time to worry and stress and work himself up into frenzy. Cooper would be a perfect distraction.

He claims his baggage and proceeds outside, where he searches the crowd for any sight of his brother.

"Squirt!" Cooper's voice seems to travel through the entire hall so everyone can hear, and he cringes at the decade old nickname his brother still uses, but he loathes beyond belief – he addressed it a few times already, but it won't sink in. "Over here!"

He turns and narrowly misses Charlie elbowing Cooper in his side, his eyes drawn down to Charlie's other hand, which rests on her protruding belly. He rushes over, the sudden overload of information propelling him towards his sister-in-law. "Charlie, oh my God, you're–"

"We're pregnant!" Charlie cheers, and pulls him into a hug, one of those big tight ones that are warm and constricting at the same time, but he wished he could have at his beck and call whenever he felt sad. Somehow Charlie doted out the best hugs, even though she wasn't all too generous with them to everyone. "We wanted to surprise you."

Cooper slaps his shoulder. "You're going to be an uncle, kiddo."

He congratulates Cooper and Charlie the entire walk to the car, and on the ride home Charlie talks all about their plans to transform the guest room into a nursery. Ideally they'd get a bigger place, but for now they'd make due with what they have and see where to go from there – Charlie's all smiles and excitement, and he hasn't seen her this hyper in all the years he's known her; pregnancy suits her, but he stuck trying to picture his brother as a father. Cooper becoming a dad seems as scary a thought as leaving small children in Sugar's care, until he's reminded of those secret touches he caught Cooper exchanging with Charlie from time to time, Cooper running his index finger down Charlie's spine or down her arm, Charlie's fingers carding through Cooper's hair until his brother smiles – there's more to either of them than meets the eye, and when they're together that's strengthened. He can only imagine what secretly coded touches he and Sebastian will work out in the years to come.

Charlie makes dinner while Cooper helps him set up in the guest room, a small room with a single bed, a cupboard, a closet and a small desk, but a wonderful view of the ocean. They moved here close to eight years ago and made a lot of changes to the place over the years, mainly adding the poolside cabana, but they'd put their own touch to the place – the small cottage had a spacious living room due to the light colors and an adjoining dining area, and if you walked through the kitchen you reached the back of the house, where French doors opened up into a small garden entirely dominated by the pool. If Cooper and Charlie wanted to raise a baby here, they would do well to childproof a whole lot of their doors before his niece or nephew learns how to crawl.

"Pretty crazy, right?" Cooper says out of nowhere, settling down on the bed. "A baby."

Cooper conspicuously doesn't make it a question, and he knows his brother well enough to realize the initial question is meant to open up a conversation about something he's reluctant to discuss with Charlie – he's never seen Cooper like this though, nervous, avoiding eye contact, his hands wringing together; he thought Cooper and Charlie talked about everything without much fear of the other getting upset. Maybe he'd misjudged that.

He sits down next to his brother. "Aren't you excited?"

Cooper takes a deep breath and thinks his answer through, which tells him enough about his brother's state of mind – Cooper's not the kind of guy to second guess himself, not in his career or his personal life, so he wonders if this baby was planned.

Before Cooper can respond, however, Charlie calls them from the kitchen; Cooper jumps up and puts on a big smile, a dishearteningly good disguise for the stranger who'd sat down not half a minute ago. Cooper pretends like nothing happened all through dinner, instead he pesters him with questions about Sebastian and their plans tomorrow, and whether or not he's nervous – he barely manages to get in three bites before his esophagus stops working and that all too familiar panic sets in again. Sebastian would pick him up for lunch tomorrow, hopefully far from the prying eyes of the press, though Santana assured him that they'd been informed of the situation and she wouldn't hesitate to _sue their asses should they overstep their bounds_. He'd admired Santana choice of words, but press or no press, stress had sunk into his skin like a poison, coursed through his veins and made his blood run thick like syrup, everything moving slower yet faster at the same time.

Later that night Charlie finds him by the pool – Cooper's watching _Catfish_ on MTV and he's not worth much of anything right now, so he decided on some alone time and dip his feet into the water. It's quiet out here, the sound of the ocean a calming backdrop to a tumultuous few days. Since his birthday on Saturday he's accomplished little to nothing; he promised Tina, Sugar and Marley he'd go shopping with them to get Marley's thoughts off her own conundrum, but with a stubborn news crew camping out on his lawn he feared leaving the house.

"Hey, sport," Charlie says, and settles next to him by the pool. "'You okay?"

Growing up with three older brothers Charlie's always known how to talk to him; she can read him as easily as Sam or Tina or even his mom, despite having spent a lot less time with him.

He glances down at his wrist, Sebastian's name still hardwired into his skin, unchanged. "I'm nervous about tomorrow."

Charlie grabs his hand and pulls it into her lap. "I remember the day before I met Coop," she says. "I was meant to sleep on the train, but I couldn't stop worrying. I'd been waiting for that moment for five years and I'd fantasized about every scenario. Getting hitched to a nineteen-year old was never included."

He laughs, vividly recalling the morning of his brother's eighteenth birthday; he'd jumped up and down in an effort to catch Cooper's tattoo, but Cooper held his arm well out of his reach while he ranted to their mom about getting a new computer, because with their old one they wouldn't get any proper research done. At eight years old it had seemed like such a grown-up thing, receiving a soulmark, a rite of passage he didn't have access too simply because he wasn't old enough yet – it was magic, like dragons and unicorns, and one day he'd know what it felt like, it wouldn't all sound like a foreign language but he'd learn the sentence structure and tenses, find out what the expressions meant and use them himself. He'd turn perfectly bilingual at the flip of a switch.

"I kept thinking _what if he doesn't like me_, _what if I say the wrong things_, _are my clothes okay_," Charlie says, running her thumb softly over his knuckles; she's going to make a great mom. "But it worked out. It'll work out for you too. It's meant to be, after all."

Now at eighteen it still felt like a grown-up thing, he didn't feel his age, if that was even something that could be applied at specific intervals in life – he wasn't an adult, he'd never lived on his own or paid his own bills, never stood on his own two feet and now he'd add another person to the mix, someone to take care of and someone to take care of him, but still – he's never had a boyfriend, and he's never been anyone's boyfriend. What if he hasn't turned bilingual? What if he's still just a speaker of a foreign language playing at experience?

He leaves his hand in Charlie's lap, where it's more safe and secure than any other part of him right now – he wants to believe in what everyone says, _everything will fall into place_, _if you can do it you sure as hell can_, _it's meant to be_, but he hasn't felt the magic yet.

"I didn't know you and Coop were thinking about having kids," he says, reminded that the question would probably shut his brother down, but he needs the distraction.

Charlie isn't Cooper though, she can act tough and professional in all the appropriate situations, but has no problem letting her guard down around the people she loves. And he's so lucky to be one of those people. "I've always wanted kids. And we're not getting any younger."

"So you both want this."

"Don't worry." Charlie squeezes his hand. "It was a mutual decision."

He nods and lets silence take hold again, listens to the ocean and the small waves his feet make in the water of the pool, and smiles to himself once the idea really sinks in – he's going to be an uncle, he'll get to dote on his niece of nephew, buy them cute little outfits and toys, spoil them rotten and teach them new things, and suddenly he can't figure out why Cooper wouldn't be excited.

"You should get some sleep," Charlie says, and pulls him close to push a kiss to his temple. "Big day tomorrow."

Hugging Charlie goodnight he heads inside, where Cooper's fallen asleep in front of the television. He puts on his PJs and reads a little before closing his eyes, but once he does sleep eludes him almost entirely; he's plagued with nightmares, the same old one where his world falls apart because his wrist doesn't show two simple words, and a new one that has him tossing and turning same as the previous nights – his legs tangle in the sheets, pillow discarded on the floor, his dream self crying out when Sebastian turns him down at the first sight of him.

He wakes up barely breathing, sheets drenched in sweat – he checks his wrist out of necessity rather than habit, but it's still there, Sebastian's name, like his name would be on Sebastian's skin. Everything will fall into place today, it's meant to be, no one can take that from him ever again.

Today could well be the first day of the rest of his life.

* * *

#

**if you can, please let me know what you think?**


	4. Day Six

**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**author's** **notes:** for those asking, Charlie Darling is the photographer in **The Untitled Rachel Berry Project**, so no invention of mine.

* * *

**(BURNING) ONE HELL OF A SOMETHING;;**

**chapter four**

* * *

**(day 6)**

"Coffee, squirt?" is the first thing out of his brother's mouth when he settles down at the breakfast table that morning, and a vicious hiss threatens to escape him; maybe if it'd been anything else, if it'd been a repetition of some form of 'are you okay' nausea wouldn't currently be stirring at the pit of his stomach.

Today's the day, he's going to meet Sebastian, both his celebrity crush and his soulmate and he's not prepared for this – he won't know what to say, he won't understand what to feel, it'll be completely overwhelming and he'll probably end up saying the wrong things. How do people do this? How did Cooper or Charlie manage this even with the surety of meeting the person they'd spend the rest of their lives with? Because this can't be it, not the nausea or the insecurity, he should be walking on clouds, not ready to sink through the floor.

He drops his head down onto the table. "I'm going to be sick," he whines, and lies there, waiting for the distinct outlines of his body to dissipate so he can gradually disappear into the ether.

"You want us to stay home?" Charlie touches a hand to his back. "We can reschedule the ultrasound for another time."

"No, it's okay." He lifts his head to the sight of a hot cup of coffee, steam rising along the edges, and his stomach growls. Maybe he should eat something, lest he faint the moment his eyes meet Sebastian's. "I want to see a picture of my niece and nephew when I get back."

Charlie smiles at Cooper across the table, and his brother shows none of yesterday's concerns – the smile he offers Charlie in return seems soft and genuine and he can't make heads or tails of it. One minute Cooper shares Charlie's excitement and next he's freaking out, much like he's doing over Sebastian right now. He's never seen his brother's home life though, he's been privileged to sweet moments between him and Charlie whenever they visited, but time away from home can offer a break from real life. When he and Sam go camping his home life fades to the back of his mind, suddenly things like homework, school and family obligations cease to matter; and up in the green woods of Salt Fork it's easy to forget how life can get him down.

He's not a negative person, not by far, he tries to be as positive and happy as he possibly can, because life's too short to focus on the sad moments, but there are things that manage to knock him down a notch. Dave Karofsky for example, one of McKinley High's star football players, had made it his personal mission to make his high school days a living hell – it went on for months, Sam and Tina kept urging him to talk to Principal Figgins but he stood determined to talk to Dave like a human being, and not circumvent whatever problems they had by going behind his back.

He learned the hard way he often let his pride get the best of him.

Tina and Sam sheltered him from Karofsky as much as they could, walked him to and from class, made sure to keep an eye on him at all times, but even they couldn't protect him 24/7. After one locker shove too many he'd pushed back, hit Karofsky in the face the way his boxing instructor taught him, and almost gotten suspended in the process.

His parents, Mr Schue, and many of his friends were surprised to find out what had been going on – he never wanted to worry them, he kept his problems under lock and key because not everyone needed an intimate look into his life, especially not once Dave had tried to kiss him after an angry tirade on both their parts. Selfishly, he hoped to help Dave struggle through something he'd faced himself; sadly the football player never let him.

He hadn't learned much from that encounter, he still kept secrets he'd be loath to tell anyone, even his best friends – a lot of his secrets revolved around his greatest fears; ending up alone, losing the people he loved, letting his insecurities get the best of him and keep him from fully immersing himself in every experience life threw his way.

So he understands the difference between the way he sees his brother whenever he comes home and the way he can see his brother now. This is Cooper's home life, the most intimate part of it, especially now that he has a baby on the way. He wonders what his brother's afraid of, and just how deep those fears run.

"Blaine, we're leaving!" Cooper shouts from the living room while he's getting dressed. A hot shower has chased away his drowsiness, and worry blankets the nausea he felt a few hours ago. "Have a good time!"

"Yeah, okay!" he yells back, while he chews at one of his fingernails, staring out over the bed that's covered with each and every single item from his suitcase. He thought he'd decided on an outfit back home, even though he packed other options should the weather shift, but now he's none too sure of the shirt and bowtie combination. He loves his bowties, he's been wearing them for as long as he can remember, and his mom never passes up the opportunity to buy new ones, but maybe he should opt for something … more mature? He leans back against the dresser and shakes his head, unsure of what more mature clothing would even look like – he doubts Sebastian would trip over him wearing a bowtie, but what if Sebastian choses for casual chic? What if he's wearing a suit? Should he have packed a tie?

He grabs for his cellphone in a blind panic, hits speed dial, and doesn't even wait for the person on the other end to get a word in. "Tina, I'm freaking out," he says, heart bruising his ribcage. "I can't do this."

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know what to wear. He'll be here in an hour and I'm still in my underwear."

"Blaine, you're having lunch with him," Tina says. "Wear something you're comfortable in."

He covers a hand over his eyes. What if he's not the boy Sebastian expects? He knows what Sebastian looks like, memorized his facial expressions and different kinds of smiles after hours and hours of watching him on screen, but Sebastian has no clue who he'll be faced with. Sebastian's constantly surrounded by perfect bodies, models, actors, even his manager and publicist were insanely good looking. What if he disappoints?

"Blaine, please, _breathe_," Tina urges. "He's your soulmate. You're having lunch, not auditioning."

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. "What if he doesn't like me?"

"Blaine Anderson, the day I meet someone who doesn't like you, is the day I quit," Tina says. "Now put on some clothes, make sure you smell nice, and for God's sake, get excited! This is a big day for both of you, Bling!"

Tina's right, he's freaking out over nothing, his outfit won't matter, all he cares about is making a good first impression, meeting Sebastian, getting to know him, and for the first time in almost a week the thought fills his stomach with butterflies: his celebrity crush and soulmate are one and the same person. How many people can say that? And even though he's prepared to adjust his initial image of Sebastian, he gets the impression he already knows him in some way. It will all work out okay.

He ends up fitting together an entirely different outfit than the one he initially picked out: he goes for some looser off-white chinos, a breezier fit perfect for LA weather, and a slim fit cotton shirt with a cross square print. It's not too casual, but not too dressy either. He rolls up his sleeves, eyes catching on his tattoo every few seconds until he focuses on his own reflection.

"It's so nice to meet you, Sebastian," he says, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a smile, though it looks too fake for his own taste. "It's _very_ nice to meet you, Sebastian," he tries, accompanied by a fuller smile this time, which quickly falters. That's not it either. He shakes out his limbs and rolls his shoulders, determined to stop practicing his lines and focus on the time ahead – Santana didn't mention the specifics on the phone, but Sebastian would pick him up for a late lunch, right after a costume fitting she couldn't reschedule, and Sebastian would take him to one of his favorite places to eat.

He glances at the clock: twelve o'clock. Sebastian won't be here for at least another hour.

He tidies up his room, puts all his other clothes back where they belong and sits down on the bed. Brown college brochures rest on the nightstand, but unlike the weeks preceding his birthday, it fails to distract – he's still excited to go to college, it's an experience his father told him he'd never forget and one he's more than grateful to have, but most people would understand his preoccupation with other things at the moment. He's torn between freaking out or flailing around the room or focusing on his sweaty palms – right now he can't feel too much of anything, there's too much to process and not enough time to do it. So he settles for sitting still.

At two past one, the doorbell rings.

He swallows hard and releases a slow even breath, before pocketing his wallet and phone.

There's no need to panic, it's just lunch, _he likes lunch_.

Approaching the door he's acutely aware of his entire body, the weakness in his thighs, the frantic beating of his heart, the anxiety headache starting at his temples, his mouth dry. He opens the door and looks up, drawing in a shuddery breath once reality truly sinks in. He hadn't truly believed it up until now, he expected Sebastian to be called away last minute or disappear into thin air like a ghost before physically ending up on his doorstep – yet there he stood, Sebastian Smythe, Hollywood heartthrob; tall and handsome, a soft smile forming around his lips even though he can't disguise the surprise that traces over his face.

"You must be Blaine," Sebastian says, his voice lower and huskier than he thought it would be, and it sends a shiver straight down his spine. Is that it, he wonders, is that the spark all soulmates feel when they see each other, something heavy and kind of itchy in a hot way?

Up close like this Sebastian's eyes aren't as green as the stories led him to believe – they're hazel around the irises and gradually become more green, and he's so mesmerized that rather than any of his rehearsed lines heat sinks into his cheeks and a smile forms around a shy, "Hi," before he tears his eyes away.

"Shall we?"

He blinks and the nod follows automatically, as does the locking the door and following behind Sebastian down the short driveway. Something feels off, though he can't quite put his finger on it, and he's too distracted letting his eyes wander up Sebastian's long legs to question it for long. Everything else about Sebastian seems exactly like the movies made him out to be; tall, lanky, perhaps even slimmer than he thought, broad shoulders, yet endless skinny legs. Sebastian wears a deep red V-neck shirt, skinny dress pants and a matching stylish blazer; _casual chic_, as he expected.

At the end of the driveway, where Sebastian parked his car, he halts in his tracks, eyes wide as he takes in the red Ford Mustang convertible. "Is that–" he starts, and studies the car front to rear. "That's the car from _If Only She Knew_. I watched it the day before my birthday, I loved it."

Sebastian opens the passenger door and nods with a smile. "This is the car."

He walks over. "They let you keep it?"

"I let them take it out of my salary." Sebastian smirks, patiently waiting for him to settle in his seat before closing the door, rounding the car, and sinking gracefully into the driver's seat. Sebastian looks at him sideways in a way he can't decipher – it's not what it's supposed to be, a tiny voice at the back of his head whispers, but it disappears once Sebastian catches his eyes. "Seatbelt, Mr Anderson."

He fumbles in his seat for a few moments, but soon they're on their way, Sebastian weaving through LA traffic like he's been doing it for years. The wind courses through his hair and the sunlight hurts his eyes, his close proximity to Sebastian making sure his body temperature rises higher than it should. Maybe he should have opted for shorts after all.

"Here," Sebastian says, and reaches for the glove compartment blindly, unearthing an extra pair of Ray-bans. "These should help."

He takes the sunglasses gratefully and puts them on, his surroundings much more focused. "Thanks."

"How was your flight?" Sebastian asks, steering them down a busy boulevard.

"I'm a huge fan of your work," he says, and cringes, because that's not how he intended to answer that question. "I've seen all your movies multiple times."

But if he's being too much of a fanboy Sebastian doesn't seem to mind. "Thank you," he smiles.

"My flight was–okay." He could hit himself over the head right about now, he's all over the place and his mouth's doing things he decidedly doesn't want it to do. "It wasn't very long."

"Don't be nervous," Sebastian says, no hint of annoyance to his voice. "We're just having lunch."

He squirms in his seat and mentally wishes people would stop saying that. It's not just lunch, it's a date with the boy he'll spend the rest of his life with and that's a pretty big deal. Sebastian's a pretty big deal to him already, celebrity or not, simply because his name tattooed itself into his skin. They're soulmates, and no matter what they'd planned today, whether it was a walk in the park, a day on the beach, or a talk behind closed doors, it still would've been _a pretty damn big deal_. Why did he seem to be the only one acting like it was?

"So, are you ready?" Sebastian asks, the car slowing down to pull up to the curb.

"Ready?"

"For the circus." Sebastian smiles, and he's no sooner spoken or the car's surrounded by photographers, paparazzi and journalists, and eager fans who somehow managed to work out Sebastian's schedule.

Sebastian climbs out of the car and quickly runs for the passenger door to prevent him from being squashed by the crowd. The reporters shout questions he can't make out and even with the sunglasses the cameras flash too bright. Thankfully an arm wraps protectively around him and skillfully navigates him through the crowd, a hand settling warm and firm at the small of his back. He looks up to see Sebastian smiling, his head held high and greeting the reporters he knows – it's so clear he's used to this, but he can't imagine how.

They head inside quickly, security guards stopping the press at the door, and silence returns.

"It takes a few minutes for the spots in your eyes to go away, but trust me, they will."

He takes off the sunglasses, the rush and bustle of the past twenty minutes overwhelming and disconcerting. Will this be his life from now on?

"Is it always like that?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Pretty much."

It can't be an easy life, your every move under scrutiny, filmed, photographed, reported, and at the end of the day journalists wrote what they wanted, especially the tabloid press. Not all of Sebastian's reputation can be true, some of it has to be exaggerated, the illicit affairs, the sleeping around, the drugs and alcohol abuse … but where the truth ended and the lies started would be a conversation for later. He wants other things from Sebastian first.

Sebastian greets the maître d with a handshake and a few words in French, which catches him off guard – he had no idea Sebastian spoke any other languages. They follow behind the short mustached man, costumers left and right calling out to Sebastian. Several beautiful women at the bar leer at Sebastian like they want to eat him, but it's the men that do the same that fail to steady his footsteps. He should probably get used to the idea that other people look at Sebastian the way he did, that others were attracted to him, but the people here understood the lifestyle, knew how to act and hold themselves in different situations. All things he had yet to learn.

They sit down at a table for two. He's almost certain Sebastian orders a bottle of water, but he wishes he worked harder in his AP French class; he might be a straight A student, but Sebastian spoke fast and fluent, and if he had to guess he'd say Sebastian was perfectly bilingual. A smile skips over his lips; he likes that this is something he doesn't know about Sebastian, he has a million questions all at the tip of his tongue and the excitement flutters through his entire body.

Silence falls once they're alone again, but he allows Sebastian a few moments to empty his pockets: an iPhone, a Blackberry, a pager and his wallet, where had he hid all those?

"Do you always carry that stuff with you?"

"I have to make sure I'm never out of touch with the people who torment me."

"Santana and Hunter?"

"Among many others," Sebastian says, and finally turns his attention to him. "What was your take on Hunter?"

He frowns, but thinks back on the way Hunter treated him, the initial disinterest yet his subsequent elation had having found Sebastian's soulmate – he's not sure Hunter's the kind of person he'd get along with, he seemed pretty set in his ways with an ego to match his professionalism. What is he supposed to say? Was Sebastian testing him?

So he settles for an answer as close to the truth as he can get. "He seemed good at what he does."

"Military school," Sebastian explains, but it comes off as a joke, a means to alleviate some of the tension slowly setting between them. This should be easier, the thought flashes through his mind again, this isn't how it's supposed to be.

Luckily the maître d returns with the bottle of water and two menus for them to peruse before the thoughts can claw their way to his anxiety. Sebastian orders immediately, clearly knowing the menu by heart, but it puts him on the spot to order something quickly. As his eyes scan the page of the lunch menu, the prices listed next to every dish seem too high to be real.

"This is all really expensive."

"It's all on me," Sebastian says. "Order what you like."

He bites his lip, and goes for the first dish that catches his eye, his French coming out barely articulate. The maître d smiles knowingly, but winks, and takes the menus back with him.

He catches Sebastian's eye and blushes. "I'm not as good as you."

Sebastian shakes his head softly, "No, I'm impressed", followed by a smile that leaves him a little weak in the knees. The only easy thing about this so far is Sebastian's easygoing nature, his openness and willingness to deal with his obvious crush – before long it'll be more than that, the crush will bloom into a love deeper than words can describe, it will set in his heart like a certainty, a full stop, not a question mark.

"Where did you learn to speak French?"

Sebastian takes a sip from his water. "I was born in Paris," he says, and there must be something in his face that signals Sebastian to keep talking, because he hears all about it, how his mom was born in France and lived there her entire life, until she met his dad while he studied at Le Sorbonne. They fell in love and got married, and had him soon after. The first ten years of his life Sebastian spent half the year in Paris and the other half in New York, and mastered both languages fairly easy.

He imagines one or both of Sebastian's parents must've been pretty young when they'd met in Paris, and got lucky enough to be soulbound together in such a romantic city – he'd never travelled outside of the country, but he dreamed of Europe and its history, the culture and the architecture, the art and the food and the different languages. Maybe Sebastian would take him there someday.

"Which one do you prefer?" he asks, their food finally arriving.

"I couldn't really say." Sebastian shrugs. "I got the best of both worlds."

They start their lunch, but Sebastian keeps talking, guided by his curiosity. His father worked for a big communications mogul Sebastian doesn't fully understand the ins and outs of, but it's clear from the way he talks about his parents that they both mean a lot to him. Sebastian's mom majored in Art History, and apart from owning her own gallery in New York City, she sold her art to dealers all over the world. It's clear Sebastian inherited his creativity from his mom, who'd introduced him to the world of theatre and Broadway, and was a big reason why he'd started auditioning in the first place.

"Believe it or not," Sebastian says as the waiters clear their table, "I was a pretty shy kid."

He laughs at that, because it is hard to believe, but the stage clearly gave Sebastian the confidence he needed. He'd seen Youtube videos of Sebastian's performances on Broadway – he'd been more of a dancer in various off-Broadway productions at the very beginning, before getting a more serious role in a big time Broadway production, which he'd played for several years. Once he turned eighteen Sebastian like many others took a stab at Hollywood, and turned out to be one of the lucky few that actually made it.

"Do you miss it?"

Sebastian falls silent and for a second or two he regrets asking. He doesn't want to put Sebastian on the spot, but he does wonder though – the Broadway lifestyle must be starkly different than the Hollywood one.

"I do," Sebastian answers, but shrugs off his obvious unease with the question. "I try not to think about it too much. I love my job, whether it's on a stage or in front of the camera."

Something tells him it's more of a lie Sebastian sold himself than anywhere near the truth, but he decides not to push it – if Sebastian doesn't want to talk about it that's his choice, and he doesn't want to pry.

"So, Blaine Anderson." Sebastian changes gears, making no move to get up or ask for the check. They've been here for close to two hours and he wouldn't mind if this lasted until dinner. "What do you do?"

He blushes. "I just graduated. I'm going to Brown after the summer."

"He continues to impress." Sebastian smiles, any hint of unease gone.

He reminds himself Sebastian is an actor, a skilled one at that, and he must employ some of those techniques in real life too, especially when things get too heavy. At the end of the day everyone pretends to some degree, like he often pretends to be okay to his parents, like he's pretending right now that this date isn't at all going the way he thought it would. They're talking and it's amazing, but he's waiting for his entire universe to make sense.

"I'm going into education," he says, fearing what would happen should silence fall again. "To become a teacher, initially, but I'd love to go into counseling in the long term. I want to work with kids."

Sebastian casts down his eyes and stares at the table, spinning his glass between two fingers. The dreaded silence falls, and he can't decipher Sebastian's mood. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned college; Sebastian never attended, though it's become clear both his parents are highly educated – he hopes it's not a sore subject.

"I stopped impressing you?" he asks carefully.

"No." Sebastian laughs. "Not at all. You're just way out of my league, killer."

And despite all the self-deprecation Sebastian utters it's the nickname that catches his attention. "Killer?"

"You don't like it?

"No, I—I do," he stutters. "No one's ever called me something like that."

"Never?"

"My friend Sam calls me 'stud' sometimes, but he's just joking."

"No ex-boyfriends?"

"No."

"That's a damn shame, if you ask me."

He searches Sebastian's face for an explanation. Would Sebastian prefer if he had more experience? The comment Sam made yesterday comes to mind, _guard your carnal treasure_, but he doesn't want to think about that – his lack of sexual experience shouldn't be a deterrent.

"What do you mean?"

Sebastian leans a little closer, his features opening in amusement. "You're a catch, killer. Anyone passing up the opportunity to date you is a damn fool."

He giggles and closes his eyes in embarrassment, covering a hand over half his face. "Stop," he says softly, though his heart rejoices. Sebastian's flirting with him, he's not even disguising it, and his stomach starts crawling with butterflies ready to burst free. It's finally here, a certainty setting stronger and stronger with each passing moment, and he thanks whatever entity in the universe assigns people their soulmate that he gets to live this, that he's allowing himself to enjoy this to the fullest, that he hasn't sabotaged anything or run for the hills because his anxiety threatens to overtake him.

He worried over nothing, Sebastian's a regular guy living an exceptional life. Fame like most other things is fleeting and Sebastian's trying to make the most of it, he's learned the rhyme and reason of Hollywood because he had to. The more they talk the more he sees it, the boy behind the man Sebastian's carefully constructed in light of his life here, still wide-eyed and marveling, bursting with more creativity than he can hold – and he gets that, that passion, that drive, so talking to Sebastian comes easy.

They decide to have desert for dinner – Sebastian orders for both of them this time and has a glass of wine to go with his cake, while talking about his next film project, which is set to film in two weeks' time. It's a romantic comedy about a smooth talking guy who never found his soulmate, so he spends his time cheating girls into his bed by replacing his tattoo with their names, and changing his identity accordingly.

He grimaces. "That sounds awful."

"Well, he's kind of a douche. The stereotypical guy in many romantic comedies."

He cups his chin in his hand. "So what's the catch?"

"He finds his soulmate. Who is everything he's always wanted in a woman."

"But he screws up?"

Sebastian nods. "And spends the rest of the movie moving heaven and earth to win her heart."

"Which he does."

"_Obviously_."

"You have a really strange job."

"I do." Sebastian laughs, and signals the waiter for the check. Grabbing his wallet Sebastian's eyes trace over his face, which almost makes him want to squirm out of his seat – no one's ever looked at him like that, with such clear interest in his life and what he has to say, and dare he say even his body. And for some reason, maybe because of the tattoo on his skin, he feels safe.

"Would you like to go back to my place for a while?" Sebastian asks. "If you're not sick of me yet, that is."

"Not at all." He faces away shyly. "I'm not ready for today to be over yet."

"Good. Neither am I."

The press is long gone as they make their way outside again, the sun slowly setting behind the horizon. The drive takes place in silence, but he soaks up the fresh breeze the darkening city offers, eyes drifting closed and his head tipping back. He's happy, there's no other way for him to describe it, he had a great lunch with one of his favorite people in the world, someone who would only gain importance in his life, and the more they talked the more comfortable they grew around each other. It's not exactly how he'd imagined, but their story isn't like most others' – their situations being what they are there was bound to be a little friction, a little awkwardness before they both realized there was no need for anxiety or fear or apprehension.

Everything will fall into place.

Half an hour later they pull up to the private gate of a house, behind which stood a carport that sheltered a black town car – Sebastian parks next to it, and helps him out of the car once again.

"This is where you live?"

He might've had his eyes closed for much of the drive, far too preoccupied with the body next to him in the car to focus on where they were headed, but he's pretty sure they've made it into the Hollywood Hills, which housed many of Hollywood's rich and famous.

Sebastian grins. "Wait until you see the place."

Sebastian leads them up a short stone staircase, leading to a slightly higher level that splits two ways; on the left another short staircase leads down to the pool, a small terrace and a cabana next to it, and in the far corner of the area a path leads up into the hills; to his right, the path Sebastian takes them on, a few steps lead to a much larger terrace, right outside the main entrance to the house. His eyes widen as he takes in the floor-to-ceiling windows, and takes note of another floor to the house the architecture and vegetation hides skillfully. Sebastian has all the privacy he needs here, despite the openness of the house.

Sliding open the patio door, they step inside, a large open living room stretching into the kitchen.

"Are these your mom's?" he asks, pointing at the four paintings hanging in a tile pattern over a low cupboard. It shows a large bird, painted in bright colors, rising up out of the flames like a phoenix. He didn't think this would be Sebastian's style, but it's a pleasant surprise.

"She's good, isn't she?"

A small squeal sounding from the kitchen startles both of them. They turn as a short Asian girl emerges, large glasses perched on her nose, a cute bob haircut, a large day planner clutched to her chest.

Sebastian shoots forward. "What are you doing here?"

The girl closes the distance between her and Sebastian and her voice drops to a whisper, though he swears he hears the word 'Hunter' followed by 'make sure' somewhere in there.

"Of course," Sebastian answers in reply, clearly not amused by the turn of events. "Blaine, this is my personal assistant, Dottie."

The girl waves.

"Dottie, meet Blaine."

"It's so nice to meet you, sir." Dottie walks up to him with her arm outstretched, the ensuing handshake much stronger than he anticipated. She speaks with a slight lisp, but she's too cute not to like. "I've heard a lot about you."

She looks back at Sebastian over her shoulder, who's leaning back against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes dark. Dottie lowers her head. Whatever Dottie told Sebastian, or whatever Hunter intended Dottie's presence to cause, had an adverse effect on Sebastian's mood. Sensing the tension, he decides maybe today had lasted long enough.

"I should probably head home." His voice cuts through the silence like a stranger in a group of friends, out of place and shrill. "My sister-in-law will worry if I stay out too late."

"I'll take you home."

Sebastian rushes past him like he can't get rid of Dottie fast enough, and they're back in the car on their way to Cooper's before he can blink. What could Dottie possibly have said to upset Sebastian so much? What could Hunter possibly have wanted to make sure of?

"Dottie seems nice," he says, in an effort to get Sebastian to relax a bit; his hands keep wiring around the wheel, making the leather squeak, and he's driving too fast.

"Too nice," Sebastian says. "She could do with a little backbone."

He stares down at his hands, folded together in his lap. That's about the meanest thing he's heard Sebastian say all night, and to hear it about a girl who'd seemed nice, quiet and loyal, makes him think there's a lot more to Sebastian's question about Hunter earlier today. He thinks back to what Hunter told him, _you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you_, and suddenly he can't make sense of anything anymore. Publicists dealt with an artist's public image, and given Sebastian's reputation he can understand why Hunter would be relieved to find his soulmate, but where did Dottie fit into all of this? Did Hunter honestly think Sebastian took him home to … _to sleep with him_?

_Guard your carnal treasure_, Sam's voice echoes louder and louder until it's all he can hear, because now that he has time to let it breathe, take a step back and think through the entire day, he's not entirely sure he would've resisted Sebastian had he tried to seduce him back at the house. The physical attraction was there before he'd even met Sebastian, and being close to him today only underscored how real that was, a magnetism played between them he wanted to tap into, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to feel Sebastian's lips move against his the way Joey Walker's had four years ago – he can scarcely imagine what it would be like to kiss his soulmate without getting hot all over.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian's voice sounds. "Dottie's amazing. I don't know what I'd do without her. I hate seeing people take advantage of her."

"People like Hunter?"

Sebastian parks the car. "I was hoping you hadn't heard that."

"Sorry."

"He's a pain in the ass." Sebastian sighs. "But he's really good at what he does."

He doesn't ask what Sebastian means, doesn't ask why he keeps Hunter around if he's that big an annoyance, he doesn't say how he doesn't understand any of this, because he's afraid of the answer. He wants to keep his fantasy of Sebastian intact, so far surprisingly unaltered by their encounter today – there's nothing that led him to believe Sebastian was the man the tabloids described, the player, the heartbreaker, the hop skip and a jump away from burning out. If it's all an act, if Sebastian pretends in every aspect of his life, he's not sure he wants the truth.

"You're staying with your brother?" Sebastian asks.

"Yeah. It's my first time visiting."

"Two birds in one stone."

Sebastian gets out of the car and helps him out, while he wonders what Sebastian's hoping to get out of all this. Because seeing Sebastian was nowhere near as trifle as visiting a family member. Cooper and Charlie visit at Christmas or Thanksgiving, they came to his graduation, they stay in touch through email or Facebook. But the whole point of seeing Sebastian wasn't to visit his brother too, no, it was the start of something lasting, a foundation for their relationship, maybe even their _marriage_ one day.

He hates to think why Sebastian feels the need to make this out to be something casual, he hurts coming up with all the reasons why Sebastian might be protective of his heart, built walls around it so he won't have to deal with heartbreak. This might be tougher than he thought it would be.

"Can I just–" Sebastian starts, and reaches for his wrist, slowly turning it around so he can see his name printed on his skin. "Well, I'll be damned."

Sebastian's fingers run over his wrist and he shivers, struck by the odd sensation that Sebastian's as insecure about all this than he is.

"What did Hunter mean when he said he'd been waiting for me?"

A laugh escapes Sebastian and he releases his wrist, scratching the back of his head. "Some of my reputation is exaggerated. Some of it isn't. Let's say Hunter's job just became easier."

He still doesn't understand what it all means, how many affairs or one-night stands has Hunter covered up for Sebastian?

"I'm sorry," Sebastian says, "I didn't meant to–"

"It's okay," he hushes. "I read the tabloids."

Only he doesn't, does he? He always ignored them in favor of preserving his dream man, a perfect Sebastian, now ever so slowly unraveling in front of him. He made himself a promise though, he wouldn't let Sebastian's past hinder their relationship, how could he let it when this was meant to be? Their story's different than other people's stories, it won't be like Tina and Mike's or Cooper and Charlie's, but it'll be one of their own making.

"I want you to know your past doesn't matter to me."

Out of nowhere, Sebastian's brave countenance shatters, his brow sets in a frown for about three seconds before he takes a deep breath.

"That's–"

Sebastian stares at his feet, tapping the tip of his shoe off the pavement.

"–very big of you, killer."

"I mean it."

Sebastian looks up, a playful though pained smile coloring his mouth. "Way out of my league," he reiterates a previous statement, and it sends a curious ache through all his extremities. What happened to Sebastian to make him so guarded? Why does he make it sound like he doesn't deserve this?

He wants to pull closer, grab Sebastian's wrist and uncover his soulmark to prove it, to make Sebastian see they were meant to be, they were meant to meet and fall in love and no past indiscretions could ever erase what the universe has known since the day they were born.

_Sebastian Smythe_ tattooed black into his skin.

_Blaine Anderson_ tattooed deep into Sebastian's.

They're soulbound.

"Today has been one of the best days of my life," he says instead, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, scared it might shatter everything around him and reveal it to have been a dream.

Sebastian smiles and brings his hand up, a thumb caressing his cheek. Not a dream, but half a fantasy. Then, Sebastian leans in, his breath warm against his skin, and pushes a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Sparks ignite in his stomach and he wishes he could freeze this moment in time, keep it cupped between the palms of his hand to cherish forever – he knows what he wants now. He wants Sebastian.

"Sweet dreams, killer."

"Goodnight, Sebastian."

He watches Sebastian drive off before he pushes his fingers against the imprint Sebastian's lips left on his skin, his cheeks burning, skin buzzing with something he's never felt before in his life.

This must be what being in love feels like.

* * *

#

**if you can, please let me know what you think?**


	5. Day Nine

**disclaimer:** without prejudice. the names of all characters contained here-in are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy. no infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.

**author's** **notes:** I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT.

* * *

**(BURNING) ONE HELL OF A SOMETHING;;**

**chapter five**

* * *

**(day 9)**

His nightmares all but disappear.

He doesn't know why he needed to meet Sebastian before he believed the tattoo was real, why he needed those precious few hours talking to him and the soft press of Sebastian's lips to a corner of his mouth to assert the idea that sometimes dreams do come true, sometimes it's okay to fantasize, to imagine impossibly big and crazy things.

For two days straight he wakes up with the ghostly impression of someone else's lips around the curve of his mouth, inconspicuous over the right-hand corner unless he closed his eyes and reimagined those final moments – Sebastian's lips stealing a hidden kiss like Peter Pan stealing Mrs Darling's, a fantasy of what could be, things to come, a promise for the future encompassed in a single gesture. He secretly longs for another kiss, a real kiss, not a thimble or an acorn, but a real kiss, one he can return, one that seals the bond coded into their DNA.

At night, he dreams elaborate romantic comedy scenarios where he and Sebastian are the stars; he and Sebastian as Peter and Lizzie in _Wimbledon_, a British wildcard player falling for a young American tennis star, only in his dreams Sebastian speaks perfect French, seduces him with lines like _je t'aime, mon coeur_ and a wicked sense of humor. It almost falls apart, he loses his shot at the championship and Sebastian goes on to play the finale, but their love prevails in the end, and when Sebastian's name appears on his wrist on his eighteenth birthday, Sebastian reveals his name to have been on his own all this time – he'd waited, patiently, for him to see the truth too.

He'll wake up smiling and content, a secret kiss waiting to be stolen all over again fresh on his lips and butterflies making him ten pound lighter – if he were any more of a romantic he might fear floating away if he ever kicked off from the ground too hard, but he keeps those thoughts to himself, far too cheesy for anyone else to hear.

Grabbing his phone he reads Sebastian's text again, sent about half an hour after they said their goodbyes on Thursday. It simply read, 'Thanks for a great day, killer,' followed by a winky face, but it'd started an elation at the pit of his stomach he'd scarcely felt before. Sebastian had a good time with him, they'd spoken openly about family and friends, about Sebastian's stint on Broadway, and even though a part of Sebastian was as guarded as parts of him, there'd still been room for flirtation and wide-eyed staring. Breaking into Sebastian's heart would be a matter of time and patience, like he'd been shown by friends these past few years, and once they got to know each other he'd nestle inside Sebastian's heart like a thief in the night, granting his soulmate every secret kiss for all the days to come.

When he came home Thursday night he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, rehash the past few hours so he could make sense of things, let it simmer into his skin and his bones until he could form it into a coherent story; several people would want to hear what happened. Charlie and Cooper sat curled up together on the couch, Cooper holding up a print-out of the ultrasound, and there it was, that bond between his brother and Charlie he fell in love with when he was merely nine years old – Cooper whispered something to Charlie and she giggled, kissing Cooper's cheek, completely unaware that he'd entered the house.

He'd quickly snuck into the guest room and closed the door behind him, sinking down to the floor as his body tingled with that same bond. It was finally his, he'd met his soulmate, and even though there might be a few bumps along the way he'd laughed out loud. Alone in his room he'd sat laughing for several moments, his knees hugged to his chest, utter joy and pure love coursing through him. He needed to get the hang of Hollywood, adjust to the ebb and flow of a city thus far foreign to him, but he was a quick study and he could do anything if it meant getting close to Sebastian; he needed to find a way past Sebastian's walls, push a little here and there to make him see the wait was over, he was there now, and the universe wanted this as much as they did.

They could be like Susan and David in _Bringing Up Baby_, two people reluctantly forced together through an hilarious series of events, and too proud to admit they have each other's names tattooed into their skin. There'd be misunderstandings and coincidences too ridiculous to be real, they'd bicker and fight and drive each other crazy, but in the end, as it usually goes in Hollywood movies, they'd realize they're each other's perfect match, and live, happy ever after.

He'd spent most of Friday on his own, Cooper out to work and Charlie off on an assignment for one of the many magazines that employed her, but between hours of Skyping with Sam and Tina and writing down everything he could remember of his time with Sebastian, the day passed quickly. On Saturday he'd gone shopping for baby clothes with Charlie, even though she and Cooper had decided not to learn the sex of the baby, but they'd found cute Winnie the Pooh footies too adorable to leave at the store. They'd talked the way they always talked, he the little brother, Charlie the big sister Cooper brought into his life – or maybe that was the universe's doing too, fitting parts of people's lives together like colors on a Rubik's Cube.

She explained once again that starting a family was a decision she and Cooper made together, they'd talked about it for a long time before taking the leap, but Cooper had his insecurities about being a dad, like Charlie had her fears about being a mom. She assured him it was all part of becoming a parent, you can never be completely ready, but when the time came they'd both fall in love with their baby, everything would fall into place, _etc etc_…

Charlie laughed and said that a lot in life inspired fear, but there were just as many things to fall in love with along the way. It was all a matter of opening yourself up to opportunities when they presented themselves.

And he decided there and then he wouldn't let a single opportunity slip through his fingers again.

Now, Sunday morning, he skips into the living room with a trip in his step and his heart stuttering an exciteful kind of panic, much like the one he imagines has informed Charlie's mood of late. He makes himself some breakfast and checks his email on his phone, ready to pass the rest of the morning on the beach reading, leaving Cooper and Charlie to wake up to an empty house; they didn't mind having him around, but he still wanted them to feel like they had the privacy they enjoyed before he showed up. Still, he leaves them a note so they know where he went.

He throws on his new pink shorts and one of his favorite short-sleeved shirts and heads out to the beach, where he sits down on a towel, his own sunglasses perched on his nose this time, and starts a new book, one about a man whose wife goes missing – Charlie had a thing for crime novels, thrillers, and horror stories, so she picked out the good ones. His Kindle was loaded with young adult novels about young love and _Star Wars_ fan fiction, but given the nature of his dreams lately he needed a different genre.

Just last night he dreamed he and Sebastian were Sara and Jonathan in _Serendipity_, two strangers who meet in a department store by complete happenstance, inexplicably drawn to each other like two poles of a magnet – set in a world where soulmarks don't exist, they had a magical night in New York City a few days before Christmas; Sebastian took him ice skating and flirted relentlessly, twirled him around on the ice and drew constellations on his arm with magic marker, even though Sebastian's the one with the freckles. Years passed and the absence of Sebastian carved out a cavernous place in his heart, even though he tried starting a new life with a new guy, faceless and gray – something drew him back to New York though, destiny lured him down familiar streets and fortunate coincidences brought him back to the boy he was meant to be with, Sebastian, tattooed over his heart, his future, his life's purpose.

It was unbelievably cheesy, but it was one of his and Tina's favorite movies, saturated with the idea that despite the lack of soulmarks, some people were still meant to be together.

He gets fifteen pages far in his book before his cellphone rings, the name 'SEBASTIAN' immediately attracting his attention, and soon that all too familiar cadence of a voice fills his entire sense of perception.

"Hey, killer," Sebastian says. "What are you up to right now?"

"Just reading." He picks at a dog-eared page. "Why?"

"I thought we could do lunch again. At my place. Just you and me."

Pleasant warmth clogs up his veins like maple syrup, settles directly below the surface of his skin where a gentle breeze catches on the goosebumps it raises.

"And the dog," Sebastian adds.

He hiccups a laugh. "I'd love to."

"Great," Sebastian says. "I'll send a car."

"No, I can– drive. I'll borrow my brother's car."

"Perfect. See you soon."

He remains seated for another thirty seconds, staring out over the ocean as if the beach foam might reveal the universe to him, but springs into action when his phone buzzes with a text from Sebastian; his address, in case he needed it, followed by another winky face. Grinning from ear to ear, he gathers his things and makes a mental note to check his hair and clothes before he leaves the house again.

"Where are you off to, squirt?" Cooper asks when he storms back in. Cooper and Charlie are still in the kitchen, enjoying a late breakfast, taking their sweet time with each other.

"Sebastian." He darts in and out of his room to deposit his book and towel. "He invited me for lunch. Can I borrow your car?"

Cooper tosses him his keys and points at him with clear warning. "Have it back before midnight."

Charlie gently elbows Cooper in the ribs. "Have fun."

It's been two days, two whole days since he saw Sebastian, and he's been waiting for the opportunity to see him again. The half hour drive does little to steady his nerves – all he wants is to get to know Sebastian, learn more than the sequence of events in which his life unraveled over the years, but the motivations behind it. Why had he chosen Hollywood over Broadway? What were some of the things that kept him going? What past relationship had hurt him to make him so guarded? Maybe Sebastian went through a similar experience as he did, maybe he got bullied, or maybe he had his heart broken by someone he loved. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, get whatever stood in their way out in the open and talk about it, instead of letting it simmer into awkward exchanges.

He pulls up to the marvelously sheltered house on Greenvalley Road, Dottie waving at him excitedly from the gate. Apparently 'just you and me' also included Sebastian's personal assistant, but he won't be deterred. He _will_ talk to Sebastian.

"He's out by the pool!" Dottie squeaks as they cross paths, her body jittery with what he can only guess is nerves – last night Dottie seemed calm and subdued, now she decidedly drank too much caffeine. "I'm so sorry if I ruined your night the other day, I really didn't mean to." She wrings her hands together. "Sebastian keeps telling me I shouldn't let Hunter push me around, but–"

"Don't worry," he hushes the girl's ranting, her buggy eyes wide behind the large prescription glasses. He takes a look at Dottie's wrist, her soulmate's name tattooed in delicate Asian characters.

"I haven't met him yet," Dottie says. "Our parents are still working out the details."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Not at all." Dottie smiles. "It's the way my world works."

There's a strange twist in his stomach at the thought of it, of someone else being in control of the how and when – then again, the system doesn't allow for much control to begin with, they have to wait eighteen years for a stranger's name to set deep below their skin, satisfy their youthful desire with stories and dreams and fantasies until that moment comes and even then it can be a long journey before anyone ever meets their soulmate. He's not sure he got lucky, thrust into an unknown world without any sort of grace period to ease the transition – he hasn't had much control over the how and when of this either, the media stepped in before he could make it known and Hunter took over before he managed to catch a breath.

Making his way down to the pool area he steps into an oasis surrounded by green plant life, completely sheltered from the outside world, from any concrete and high-speed roads, from the cars and the crowds, from all the media and everything else that might invade Sebastian's every day life – he can understand why Sebastian would chose to live here, in the quiet comfort of knowing that nothing or no one can touch him here.

Sebastian has just started another lap when he reaches the bottom step, dipped under water and swimming towards him, and once he resurfaces he flicks his hair to one side, long fingers dragging through the wet brown strands.

"Hey there, killer." Sebastian smiles, hoisting himself out of the pool.

For a second or two, maybe more, maybe eons, he becomes Hannah watching Jacob in _Crazy, Stupid, Love_ right after she commands him to take off his shirt, about to shout, "Oh my God, you look like you're photoshopped!" and jump into his arms like Baby in _Dirty Dancing_, his eyes preoccupied by following the lines of water philandering down Sebastian's chest, cascading down in one of those perfect movie-made moments, slow motion capture, every single drop outlined by the camera.

"I'm glad you came."

His lips part, Sebastian dripping wet stains down on the tiles, his lungs constricting around a distinct lack of oxygen. He's seen Sebastian half-naked before, on screen, in magazines, that one photoshoot Sebastian did on the beach, but being privy to it in real life proves to be an entirely different experience. The magazine had somewhat embellished Sebastian's physique, his abs got touched up and they'd cut into his waistline, but the guy in front of him would've made an equally spectacular photo spread – abs flat and fit and such impressive arms, all covered in so many beauty spots. What were people even thinking airbrushing those out?

"Thanks for inviting me." He clears his throat, but can't bring himself to look away, fresh fantasies taking root; running his fingers down Sebastian's body, playing connect the dots with all the freckles sprinkled down his chest, lying encased in two strong arms while the two of them exchange hugs and real kisses and laugh at each other's silly jokes. His eyes draw down to Sebastian's wrist, finding it obscured from view by his watch – how he longs to see the tattoo printed on Sebastian's skin, trace over every letter until he divines the meaning of his own name.

Sebastian quickly rubs himself dry with a towel. "I know we haven't had much time to get to know each other."

"You're busy. I understand."

"Alright." Sebastian smiles bright. "Let me put on some clothes and I'll make us something to eat."

He follows Sebastian back up to the house, whisking away what secrets he can from Sebastian's flawless skin, his back equally splotched with freckles, and he barely contains a smile – he looks at Sebastian as a man, even though plenty of people agree he has a young fresh face that hasn't aged for a few years. Sam often calls him _baby face_, and somewhere in between the hush-hush of Sebastian's freckles he finds the same conclusion. His idea of Sebastian has been warped by his public image, he doesn't know the boy behind the star, the man inside the boy, the boy who'd made his way to Hollywood and was forced to function in an industry unknown to him.

A Jack Russell terrier emerges barking from the house, and starts jumping up against his legs.

Sebastian pulls the small dog back by the collar. "You guys didn't get a chance to meet the other day."

Hearing Sebastian talk about their first meeting finally reassures him Sebastian hadn't brought him here to sleep with him – Sebastian had felt the same way he had, he hadn't wanted their night to end yet, he wanted him to meet his dog and talk about his mother's paintings.

He sinks down to the floor and scratches the dog behind his ears. "What's his name?"

"Her name's Thandie. My mom picked it out," Sebastian says. "She didn't want me to be lonely."

"You guys sound pretty close."

He stands up and makes his way inside the house, Thandie close behind, sniffing his ankles.

"My mom and me?" Sebastian asks. "Yeah, we are. We have a lot in common."

While Sebastian gets dressed he studies the rest of the living room. One wall of the living room consists solely out of glass, floor-to-ceiling windows interrupted to make room for a fireplace, though in a place like Los Angeles there seems little use for it. Two large sofas stand arranged around a small coffee table in front of the fireplace, another painting on the wall over the largest one, the same style as the phoenix he already took note of. He turns towards the phoenix again, the colors vibrant and alive, as if they could start moving any moment.

Below the painting there's a cupboard covered with picture frames; he recognizes the cast of Sebastian's first Broadway play in one of the photos, Sebastian with family and friends in others, though it's a smaller one hidden near the back that grabs his attention – he unearths it from behind the others and meets a much younger Sebastian, he can't be more than fourteen, his arm thrown around Nick Duval's shoulders, a boy he'd been on stage with for years. He's never seen Sebastian smile the way he does in the picture, young and foolish and unguarded.

"Nick Duval." Sebastian's voice startles him. Dressed in shorts and a near see-through white shirt Sebastian takes hold of the photo and stares at it with melancholy eyes. "My biggest regret."

"You two were–"

"Two young fools in love." Sebastian hides the picture out of sight again, pretending to be unaffected by its presence. "Long time ago." He shrugs, and heads for the kitchen. "It's in the past."

A pang of pain sinks into his heart like a sharp needle thinking of a young Sebastian in love, maybe for the first time ever, only to have his heart broken when Nick's soulmark revealed another name so many years later. Because he's not blind, the picture means something, seeing it shattered something in the surface of Sebastian's steel composure, a near imperceptible chink in his armor. Did Nick break Sebastian's heart? Was this the relationship that closed Sebastian to other opportunities? Maybe Sebastian's still hurting, maybe he's a fool to think that it'll only take a few dates to punch through Sebastian's armor and find that young foolish love himself. There has to be a reason Sebastian keeps the picture around.

"I hope you like BLTs, killer," Sebastian calls from the kitchen, rifling through the fridge. "As far as culinary prowess goes I'm strictly low-key cuisine."

He pushes any thoughts of Nick and the past aside, and joins Sebastian in the kitchen, all the ingredients for the BLTs splayed out on the kitchen counter. "That's okay. I'm pretty handy in the kitchen," he jokes, though the words no sooner leave his mouth or Sebastian retreats behind walls heartbreak had construed for him – he realizes then that he has plans for the future, born after years and years of dreaming of his soulmate; a lot of them included domesticity and preparing meals together, dividing household chores accordingly and aiding each other in building a life together. That's what he's here for, that's the whole point of this, two souls fated together by some unseen force finally meeting and coming together.

The sight of Sebastian pulling back reminds him he'd vowed to push through, to talk to Sebastian like a normal person would on a second date. So he marches to the stove and starts preparing the bacon, giving Sebastian a few more moments to catch his breath.

"You seemed surprised to see me the other day."

"Honestly?" Sebastian faces him. "I didn't think you'd be this good-looking."

He'd find the time to question Sebastian's quick recovery if not for the heat rising in his cheeks, thrown off by Sebastian's flirtation once again – it's Sebastian's way of clearing the air, and it's magnificently effective.

"Or this cute blushing." Sebastian smiles, and reaches out, drawing a thumb over one of his cheeks, another ghostly impression of a touch gone too soon, too quickly. If only he could cheat and hold it there, but being around Sebastian is like being on a rollercoaster ride for the first time, he never knows what's coming, what turn their conversation will take, if it'll loop around or upside down, or when the ride will be over.

"You never– googled me?" he asks tentatively, because in the forever spanning his ninth and eighteenth birthday he'd researched himself so many times, divined how his soulmate would go about finding him and tracking his online footprint accordingly. He'd found plenty of pictures, on the tennis club's website, on McKinley High's website, even a few pictures on his friends' Facebooks that he hadn't managed to privatize. So why hadn't Sebastian known what he looked like? Wouldn't Hunter or Santana have told him? Didn't he catch any of the articles or news segments that informed the world that Blaine Anderson was Sebastian Smythe's soulmate? What wasn't Sebastian telling him?

In the forever spanning his question and Sebastian's answer he sees the boy behind the man hesitating, weighing his words, prolonging the silence by chopping up the tomatoes. "The internet takes away a lot of the romance," Sebastian answers, as close to the truth as he can manage. It's not a lie, it's even something they agree on, but there's another truth in between the lines he can't detect yet. Maybe the wound Nick left was too fresh, maybe Sebastian had counted on Nick being his soulmate and he got an entirely different boy instead. "Technology often does."

"Says the man walking around with two cellphones."

"Touché." Sebastian releases a breathy laugh, cutting the lettuce next. "It's a competitive business. Everyone's chasing the same things, the same parts, the same awards. If you want to get the right parts you have to play the game. That's kind of how it works here."

It all sounded like a recipe for an unsatisfying life, a different rollercoaster he's not sure he's interested in riding – he liked the idea of Hollywood from afar, but whatever he's seen from up close wasn't the dream the world portended it to be. He's seen children walked on leashes and dogs in car seats, kids that can't be more than five talking on expensive iPhones or walking around with computers worth thousands of dollars. And all the while his brother's a struggling actor, often relying on Charlie's paychecks to make ends meet. This was a strange city, and he wonders if it ever changed people.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe this relationship would be a constant uphill battle against an industry that thrives on its stars appearing single and available, and Sebastian's own reservations about what it means to love and be loved. Because he can't see why else Sebastian would be so resistant. He's starting to feel more like Tom in _(500) Days of Summer_ trying to convince Summer that they're soulmates – but that's one love story he'd rather not think about; he's nothing like Tom, who was foolishly convinced Summer and he were meant to be, only to watch her find happiness with someone else. It's not like that for him, he has the proof printed on his wrist already, and so does Sebastian.

"So, your brother lives in LA?"

The question fails to deter any of his unease.

"Yeah."

"What does he do?"

"He's an actor, actually." He piles lettuce and tomatoes on two whole-wheat slices of bread. "He does those free credit rating commercials."

"You're kidding. Dottie has the jingle as her ringtone. It drives me nuts."

He smiles; Sebastian isn't the first to say that. "Well, he loves it."

"He's a lot older than you."

"Nine years."

"So he's married, then?"

"Almost ten years. And he's going to be a dad in six months."

"You excited to be an uncle?"

He looks at Sebastian, standing right beside him as they finish garnishing the sandwiches, and revels at the turn this conversation's taking – he rarely meets people so genuinely interested in him. So what is this? What are they doing? Why does Sebastian want to know all these things about him but can't seem to understand he wants the same things in return?

"I am," he answers. "And they're going to be great parents, my sister-in-law's amazing."

"I always wanted a sister when I was younger."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding? Someone to boss around all the time?"

He laughs. "You forgot someone to belittle, criticize, and give embarrassing nicknames to."

"Shit," Sebastian breathes. "That bad, huh? I might need to have a word with that brother of yours."

And then Sebastian touches his nose.

It's as brief a touch as ever there was one, and he can't be too sure whether he imagined it or not, but Sebastian touches his index finger to the tip of his nose, and taps once, before grabbing both their plates off the kitchen counter.

_Trying to keep my heart on the tracks_, the lyrics swim in front of his eyes, because he can't make heads or tails of this. One moment Sebastian does everything in his power to drive him away, to make him question whether he's in the right place, when the next he's sweet and honest and open, a regular boy among so many others, a boy he's steadily falling for.

He won't be able to reign in his heart for much longer.

"Did I take the romance out of this for you?" Sebastian asks, settling down outside on the terrace. "Being who I am. Meeting Santana and Hunter first."

"It all happened really fast."

He sees no point in lying about this, if he wants honesty from Sebastian he has to dote out his own. It hasn't been an easy transition, leaving his small town life behind for the big splendor of Hollywood, getting disillusioned hard and fast but braving all the hardship in the knowledge that he'd meet his soulmate. The world's a strange place in general, but Hollywood is a world of its own.

"I feel like I'm finally catching my breath."

"Good." Sebastian smiles. "That's important. Finding a place to calm down."

"Is that why you live here on your own?"

"Pretty cool, isn't it? I used to share an apartment with some friends from New York, but I needed a place for myself."

They talk like they talked two days ago, Sebastian asks more about Brown and his plans for the future, about his friends back home, Sam and Tina, but avoids the topic of ex-boyfriends this time around. Sebastian talks about moving to Los Angeles and his struggles his first year, going out to audition after audition only to be met with disappointment every single time. He almost gave up on Hollywood and headed back to Broadway, until he caught the attention of a young casting director, who got him his first break. He'd seen the movie when his crush on Sebastian fully kicked in; it was a small talking part, but it got Sebastian noticed by the big studios, the start of a quick rise to fame.

In that short afternoon hour he becomes every character in every romantic movie ever, sat across the table from his love interest, slowly but surely converting to the idea that this could be the person he'll love for the rest of his life, this vibrant larger-than-life broken boy that he'll put back together again. Sebastian spins him around his finger and reels him in, even if his moods often swing him like a yo-yo, but the certainty of this lay set in his DNA, on his skin, in his heart.

"Come on, we're going for a hike."

Sebastian jumps up from his seat and holds out his hand, pulling him up when he offers his own hand. He's not wearing the right shoes for a hike, but he's too swept up in Sebastian's energy to complain, so he follows him back through the house, down to the pool, where he'd already noticed a short stone staircase leading up into the hills – the steps turn into wooden beams as they climb higher, Thandie winding between their legs every so often, and he tries to keep pace with Sebastian, who's clearly done this many times before.

They pass a small hidden alcove with another terrace, pebbles covering the sand, white paper lanterns hanging from the trees that provide lighting should it grow too dark; Sebastian marches on, clearly set on taking him to a specific spot.

Finally, after another three minutes, they end up at the end of the path, a clearing overlooking a deep valley of houses, parks and waterways, a more impressive view than he ever thought Hollywood could offer.

His eyes go wide. "This is amazing."

"It's one of my favorite places in the world."

Seeing Hollywood through Sebastian's eyes he understands the appeal, the city of success, of make-it or break-it, of places hidden out of sight to offer sanctuary from all the negativity that followed celebrities around, a welcome break from a hectic life.

Sebastian takes a deep breath and stares out over the valley, eyes on a distant and unfixed point. "How do you feel about soulmates?"

His heart skips a heedless beat hearing the word fall from Sebastian's lips for the very first time. "You mean us?"

"No, I mean– In general." Sebastian looks at him. "The whole concept of it."

"It's the way the world works," he says, even though it sounds mechanical, but that's how it's always been, from Ancient Mesopotamia until now, the Ancient Greeks glorified it in their writing, Ancient Egyptians built monuments and graves so that soulmates could spend eternity together, the Romantics raised the soulmark as the freest expression of the human soul, history rife with famous couples fated together. It's how the world worked, it's all people knew. "Why– do you ask?"

Sebastian faces away again and forces a silence, not to weigh his words, but to give voice to his own thoughts, his private musings, and when Sebastian looks at him again there's a curiosity in his eyes he couldn't fathom if he had another hundred years to interpret it. "You think the universe ever makes mistakes? Brings two people together that are completely wrong for each other?"

The silence is his this time. Is Sebastian talking about Nick?

"I don't– understand."

Sebastian closes his eyes. "Yeah, I'm just– I'm rambling. I'm sorry."

He's never heard anyone talk like this, these are the ravings of a crazy person, of the nihilists who believe they shouldn't be led by a system science can't explain, that they shouldn't trust in something that still leads to so many mistakes. No one takes those people seriously, there are too many men and women out there who'd looked into each other's eyes and found love, found a piece of themselves, their lives completed by the simple presence of another person. But what does that say about Sebastian? Are these merely the musings of a lonely boy who once got his heart broken? Who saw the boy he loved receive someone else's name? Or does he hold true to these beliefs?

"How are you so sure about all this?"

"I've seen it," he says, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, not for himself, but for Sebastian, because how can he be so convinced that he doesn't deserve to be loved? "I watched my brother fall in love. My best friend. My parents still love each other as much as the day they met." He takes a tentative step towards Sebastian, closer than he's ever been, and reaches a hand out for his arm. "What about your parents?"

"My parents." Sebastian laughs, but nods, and somewhere in there he swears he hears a tear or two. "My parents fell in love the moment they saw each other."

His fingers curl tighter around Sebastian's arm, his beliefs curled around his entire genetic make up, in every nook and cranny of his eighteen years of loving and remembering and dreaming. "That's how I'm sure."

For a moment or two he fears Sebastian might repeat how out of his league he is, which only sounds like Sebastian pointing out how hopelessly mismatched they are for each other. But Sebastian forces a few even breaths into his lungs and calms down, before raising his hands to his face.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, but drinks in the touch like he's been starved for it for centuries, Sebastian's hands soft and warm and close, his eyes a brilliant green.

"I'm going to kiss you, Mr Anderson."

Evy to Rick in_ The Mummy_. His lips part, heat pooling in his stomach at the thought alone – a kiss, a real kiss, it's more than he could've hoped for.

"Isn't that how this soulmate thing works?"

"This– thing?" he asks confused, a bitter taste in his mouth.

Sebastian's hands fall away. "I'm sorry." He shakes his head and trips a step back.

"Sebastian. What's wrong?"

"What if I'm not the person you expect me to be?"

Does he really seem like this person? Has he pushed too hard, wished for too much, dreamed too big? He does have expectations, it's hard not to after eighteen years of dreaming of a soulmate. What were the chances of that soulmate being his celebrity crush? Hadn't he been drawn to Sebastian for a reason? Hadn't this all been fated all along? He'd been prepared to face some obstacles, but how hard does he push, how much time does he let pass before Sebastian's walls give way to the inevitable?

He _wants_ this. He feels this stronger than anything.

And he'll fight for it.

He reaches out and takes one of Sebastian's hands in his, caressing his thumb over Sebastian's knuckles. "I'll get to know the person you are. We're soulmates," he says, and prays to the high heavens and beyond that means something to Sebastian, that it doesn't mean something different or lesser to this boy who could be so much more. "We'll figure it out."

Sebastian smiles sadly, his lips set in a tight line, his hand giving his a light squeeze.

"I really hope you do, Blaine Anderson."

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**if you can, please let me know what you think?**


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